


I see the universe in your eyes

by fangirlandiknowit



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Dorks in Love, M/M, Space AU, nothing really tech-y in it though, viktor has it so bad omfg, written for yoi secret santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 18:52:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9137038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlandiknowit/pseuds/fangirlandiknowit
Summary: Before Yuuri realizes what’s happening, he’s been kissed by Viktor Nikiforov.It’s a small kiss, but Viktor’s lips are soft and dry, brushing over his slow enough that he can feel the tingle of it for minutes afterwards.It was a kiss, and-If Yuuri wins, he can ask for another.Maybe more than one, even.(Maybe he’ll ask for as many kisses as there are stars in the universe.)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [calciseptine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/calciseptine/gifts).



> It's a little late, but Merry Christmas to Calciseptine! I sincerely hope you enjoy this story - and everyone else too! It really wasn't supposed to be this long, but the word count ran away with me and that's why it's late... 
> 
> Happy New Year to all of us, and may viktuuri give us strength to make 2017 a little better.

_Well_ , Viktor thinks, _this isn’t very good._

He’s got one hand covering his mouth and nose against the heat billowing around him, eyeing the unstable steel construction he’s standing on warily. It could give out any minute, really, but at least he _has_ minutes.

There’s a high-pitched screech somewhere in the distance, like metal grinding against metal, and he nervously wipes sweat off his brow. To say he hadn’t planned on ending up here is an understatement.  It was supposed to be a routine mission, one of the boring ones, a simple pick-up-some-valuable-cargo in one of the outer systems. Nothing like the missions that had made him famous, had given him a _reputation_.

 _I know I always thought I’d prefer going out with a bang, but this is a little early_.

He coughs, peering through the smoke at the control panel he’d pounded at earlier. Who even built this stupid construction? Not only was security apparently abysmal considering how easily he reached the spot, but it was clearly not made for withstanding explosions. And, coincidentally, Viktor was forced to cause one earlier. Letting out some of the pressure in the tanks means it will take longer for the whole ship to blow to smithereens, but unfortunately…

Viktor is stranded.

It’s a small comfort that most of his crew is safe and sound back at the space station, where he’d left them with his ship in order to take a shuttle over to this godforsaken old factory ship. The few that had come with him should be fine as well, since he ordered them all to evacuate as soon as they realized what was going on.

Oh, he is _never_ doing a routine mission again. Not when the cargo is loaded on a ship just _waiting_ to be targeted by space pirates. Did they have something against him? It’s possible, considering he’s not exactly popular in the underworld. But it was just some old rocks with inscriptions on them! No need to blow him up over it…

The grating he stood on lurched, forcing him to hold his hands out for balance. The heat seemed to steadily rise, no doubt fueled by the fire caused by the exploded tank. He wondered what would get to him first, the heat, the fire, or the lack of oxygen. Another lurch and he figured it was probably going to be the collapsed metal structure, sending him pummeling to certain death. He would laugh if that didn’t mean choking on smoke. To think, the invincible Viktor Nikiforov, dead at twenty-seven years of age on a _routine_ mission!

There are probably worse ways to go, but Viktor can’t think of any. He’d rather not think at all, really. He sends a quick thought to Makkachin at least, hoping the dog won’t be too upset when he doesn’t return to the ship.

So lost in thought is he, that the wire dangling in front of his eyes takes a few seconds to register. He blinks at it, eyes stinging and bleary. Follows the line of it upwards, towards the ceiling high above, then down to the end where a small foothold can be unfolded.

Huh.

He might not die after all – at least not yet.

Stepping onto it he tugs at the wire, feeling it go taut before lifting him towards the dark smoke gathered above him. It’s definitely not the most fun he’s ever had, clinging to a slippery wire and hoping he won’t lose his footing, breathing shallowly into the crook of his arm. Eyes shut tightly against the dry air he has no idea how long it’s supposed to take, trying his best to ignore how he swings unsteadily back and forth over a hundred meter drop.

Eventually, after what could have been ten seconds but felt like hours, Viktor feels cool air mixing with the heat and he no longer feels like being baked in an oven. He tries to peek up through his bangs but the air turns from cold to freezing, and from fluttering to blasting against his head and shoulders.

“Take my hand!” he hears a voice, sounding far away through the ringing in his ears.

Blindly he thrusts one arm up, feels it get caught in a secure grip. When it starts to pull him up against the powerful wind howling around them he throws his other arm up as well, clinging to the other person. He feels the edge of whatever floor he’s pulled up on dig uncomfortably into his stomach, pulling against the buttons on his captain’s uniform, and he’s sure one or two must give way as he scrambles onto safe ground.

He opens his mouth to wheeze out a thanks but coughs again, eyelashes fluttering in surprise as something plastic presses around his mouth.

“Slow breaths,” the voice commands, and clean air fills his lungs like sweet relief.

A few greedy breaths later he’s pulled onto his feet, held close by the other.

“Can you walk?”

Viktor opens his eyes, ignoring how sore they feel. He’s been worse, really, but the joke gets stuck in his throat as soon as his gaze lands on the other’s face. It’s dark around them, the wind still biting cold at his skin. A ventilation tunnel, or something of the sort he guesses. That part isn’t important however, what _is_ important is that the other man is shorter than him, not by much, but enough that his slouched posture brings them face to face in the dim lighting produced by the LED strips along his covered arms.  

Dark hair slicked back, even darker eyes glittering with determination as they seem to burrow deep into Viktor’s soul. This other person is definitely not one of his crew members. He would know.

“We need to leave,” the man says slowly, gripping his arms as if worried he’ll collapse.

“Oh,” Viktor tries to say, but the sound is muffled by the oxygen mask covering his mouth.

So he nods, then shakes his head to see if it can rid him of some of the shock. He can get lost in those beautiful eyes later – if they make it that far.

And so they run, through the tunnel but at least in the same direction as the wind. He’s close to stumbling several times, limbs turning numb in the cold, and he almost misses the burning heat from earlier. All he sees is the faint glow from the other man’s light-stripes, guiding him forwards.

There’s another explosion, evident in how the tunnel quivers and shakes, finally tilting to the right. It’s when they’re forced to run along what used to be the right-hand wall that Viktor figures it wasn’t just the tunnel tilting, but the entire ship. His savior looks at him over his shoulder, motioning for him to hurry up. There’s fear in his eyes now, and Viktor realizes that they are both currently running from literal _death_.

Even with adrenaline coursing through his veins, reality threatens to catch up with him. It’s freezing in the tunnel, their footsteps thrumming against the metal plates, his heartbeat heavy in his chest. He doesn’t know how much longer he can keep this up, doesn’t know how much time or distance is left.

The other man turns again, holding out his hand. Viktor takes it without a second thought, and then they’re falling.

Straight down, head first, he buries his fingers in the thick material of the other’s clothes and holds on desperately. There’s no time to think or feel, not when more explosions shake the tunnel, cause them to bounce against the walls painfully a few times. The control panel had estimated fifteen minutes, and they had to be pushing that limit now.

He feels arms tighten around him, and he braces himself for impact.

When it comes, it’s a lot softer than he expected.

Disoriented, he spends a while concentrating on his heaving lungs and aching limbs. They didn’t so much land as get suspended midair, because the only steady thing he can feel around him is the body of the person who saved him.

“We made it,” is sighed into his ear, and he feels his whole body collapse at last into a shivering mess.

Hopefully this particular mission won’t be written into the history records.

He’s barely managed that thought before he’s drifting downwards again, the slow pull of gravity hinting at them currently hovering in an airlock, the kind that can slow ships down for emergency docking.  His legs won’t carry him when they reached the ground, and he lands awkwardly positioned half across the other’s lap.

He’s shaking so badly by now that his teeth are chattering, and he’s vaguely aware of being rubbed roughly all over. His eardrums still feel like they’ve swelled until everything sounds like he’s underwater, and he’s coughing up a storm as soon as the oxygen mask is pulled off.

“Shit, that doesn’t sound good,” his savior mutters, still massaging feeling into his stiff body.

“Yuuri!” someone shouts, several sets of footsteps hurrying over to them.

“We’re okay!” the man – Yuuri – shouts back, and Viktor tries his best to sit up straighter. “Some hypothermia, possibly.”

“I’m fine,” Viktor croaks through shivering lips, shaking even worse now that he’s slowly regaining some warmth.

Viktor Nikiforov, space captain extraordinaire, really can’t be anything _but_ fine.

“Alright alright, put him on the stretcher,” someone else snaps at them, and he’s being lifted out of Yuuri’s hold.

He’s stretched out, face tilted back and oxygen mask put back in place, when everything goes silent and still. Impatient, cold, and very irritable at his own idiocy by now, Viktor forces his eyes open and meets brown ones. Clearly, they belong to Yuuri, the man who pulled him out of a literal death trap. Not as dark as he’d thought before, and wide with surprise.

 _Soft_ , he thinks about his face, and then he passes out.

 

☆☆☆

 

Yuuri’s fingers drum against his knee, teeth gnawing on the thumb of his other hand. The screen in front of him shows a picture of his best friend, little circles appearing and fading in the middle of it as he waits for the call to connect. He’s thankfully alone in the small cabin he shares with three other crew members, all students just like him.

Well, maybe not _just_ like him, but Yuuri still feels intimidated by their presence sometimes.

And this call, in particular, is not one he wants overheard.

“Yuuri! I thought you’d call sooner!” Phichit greets him with, bright smile lighting up the screen.

“Ah, sorry,” he mumbles in reply, knee jerking in time with the drum of his fingers now. “Something came up.”

“So? How did the test go? I mean I really shouldn’t have to ask, but-“

“I failed it.”

Phichit goes silent, blinks at him in first surprise and then suspicion.

“Did you _actually_ fail it, or does it just feel that way.”

Biting his lips, Yuuri forces his body to still. He doesn’t know where to even begin explaining.

“Fine,” he sighs, “the results won’t come in until tomorrow. It doesn’t really matter, though.”

This time, Phichit gapes at him.

“ _Doesn’t matter_? Is this really Katsuki Yuuri, or did a brain worm get to you?”

He swallows, eyes flickering towards the heavy suit lying in an innocent heap on the floor below his bed. There’s no sign of it being so much as worn, though he’s used it several times by now for exercises. No sign, especially, that mere hours earlier _the_ Viktor Nikiforov clung to it with all his might.

It makes his head reel, simply remembering, and he forces his gaze away to focus on Phichit again.

“We… kind of ended up in the middle of an actual emergency on the way back,” he starts, throat dry and palms sweating even now, back in safety. “I’m not sure how it’ll affect my scores, but…”

“Yuuri, are you okay?” There’s concern in Phichit’s eyes, an uncharacteristic furrow between his brows. “What happened?”

He takes a breath. Another. Feels as if the air doesn’t reach his lungs properly, and tries again.

“Yuuri…”

“I’m okay. Really, I’m fine, it’s just.” Closing his eyes he breathes through his nose, fists clenching and unclenching in time with his breaths. “The real thing is so different from practice. I don’t think I’m suited for the task force, after all.”

 _I don’t think I’m suited to be captain,_ he doesn’t say.

“Look at me,” Phichit says, voice quiet and soft. “You’re the best person I know. The best captain material since Viktor! Just because your first instinct isn’t to run into a burning building or something doesn’t mean that isn’t still true.”

Yuuri lets out a half laugh, half sob, immediately covering his mouth with his hands. Everything is so surreal, even more so when talking about it in this tiny room on Celestino’s ship, Phichit light years away in their Academy dorm.

“That’s kind of what I did, though,” he whispers, pressing his hands against his cheeks. “I can’t believe it, Phichit. I defied a straight order and ran into a factory ship about to explode… I’m completely out of my mind!”

He doesn’t dare look at Phichit, keeping his eyes locked on his knees instead. They’re not bouncing anymore, rather they feel like rubber, certainly too weak to carry him anywhere.

“But… why?”

Phichit sounds confused, and Yuuri can’t blame him. In hindsight, he wonders the same. Why, exactly, did he think it was a good idea to run in the opposite direction of those few who had been onboard? Maybe because everyone else had been run ragged after their test? Maybe because he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving a stranger to die, not after that stranger was left alone after saving all the others…

 _A captain’s duty is towards his ship and his crew_ , he recites to himself. _A captain is only as valuable as his devotion to protect them, no matter the situation._

Famous words from the one and only Viktor Nikiforov, words that Yuuri can feel engraved in his heart. He had always wondered how far Viktor would go to follow those words himself, considering the high risk missions he kept getting assigned to.

He got his answer today, he supposes.

“Viktor would have done it,” he tells Phichit, because that really is the truth. “I just… wasn’t thinking beyond that.”

“You still haven’t told me _what_ exactly you did.” If there’s a note of awe in Phichit’s voice, Yuuri ignores it.

“Oh, that’s right. I’m sorry, umm.” Yuuri scratches at his cheek, trying to bring order to his chaotic memories. “So you know we’ve been practicing difficult terrain in those old, abandoned factory ships I told you about. The test was to find and bring back an item, not knowing where we’d be dropped off or anything in advance.”

“Sounds like fun,” Phichit jokes, and Yuuri manages a faint smile.

It’s no secret that facing unknown elements on tests has a tendency to send Yuuri into panic mode.

“I was one of the last ones so I was still in the suit when we were heading back. Apparently there was some kind of cargo exchange in one of the old ships close to the practice area, but then they got attacked by some pirates-”

“Did you fight the pirates?” Phichit looks much too excited about the story, pouting when Yuuri shakes his head. “That sucks, I really would have wanted footage of that.”

“Phichit!”

“Haha, sorry sorry!”

“It’s bad enough the ship was about to explode,” Yuuri mutters, remembering all too well Celestino’s voice in his ear barking at him to hurry up. “But, at least I managed to save him.”

“Who?”

“Ah, the guy trapped in there. So it was alright in the end.”

He doesn’t say it, even though the name is so eager to spill from his lips. _Viktor_. But he can’t because Celestino told him not to, though it’s not as if Phichit would believe him anyway. Or he would, and Yuuri isn’t sure which would be worse. He isn’t sure he believes it himself, honestly. How could he? He’s been dreaming of talking to Viktor ever since he saw the TV specials about him what feels like eons ago, when he was fourteen and studying hard to be accepted at the Space Travel Academy.

He thought if he was lucky he could work on Viktor’s ship, didn’t matter with what. This dream only turned more real as time passed, until it shifted into something more ambitious, almost greedy.

_I want to meet him as one captain before another. I want a ship just like his. I want to-_

“Yuuri? Yuuri!” Phichit is waving at him, trying to catch his wandering attention. “Did your soul float away to the outer rims or what?”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, cheeks heating up. “What were you saying?”

“Well obviously I wanted to know-“

The rest of Phichit’s sentence is drowned by the knock on Yuuri’s door, and in peeks a decidedly nervous crewmember Yuuri has never spoken to.

“Ah, Yuuri, right? You have a visitor.”

Yuuri barely has the time to open his mouth and ask who before the door flies open to reveal the one and only, _Viktor Nikiforov_.

“There you are!” he exclaims, as if Yuuri’s been hiding from him on purpose. “This ship has such a confusing layout, and no location panels! How do you not get lost?”

Viktor stares at Yuuri, expecting an answer. Unfortunately, Yuuri can’t do more than one thing at a time all of a sudden, and right now he has enough trouble breathing as he drinks in the sight.

There, in the narrow doorway, stands Viktor. Yuuri’s idol. Celebrity crush, probably. Also the guy he pulled up from a pressure cooker waiting to blow, but that last part is too recent to help his frozen limbs. The important thing is that he’s _right there_ , still wearing his singed captain’s uniform but at least not covered in soot, a single gold star adorning the right side of his chest.

Yuuri focuses on that star, ignoring the pink and white and glitter fabric surrounding it. That star is everything Yuuri wants in life. Viktor won his by the ripe age of twenty, two years earlier than anyone else is even allowed to try for it. Because, he’s Viktor. It’s as simple as that.

“Yuuri?” Viktor’s moving closer and Yuuri shoots off the bed, throwing his computer screen aside. “You seem shorter than I remember!”

Viktor’s mouth shapes into a heart when he smiles, capturing Yuuri’s helpless attention. It’s not fair, to be that beautiful.

“And you’re wearing glasses! What a surprise!”

Twitching, with a sinking feeling of shame settling in his gut, Yuuri quickly averts his eyes to the floor again. He should have done the surgery, like everyone else, but just the _thought_ of it sends his thoughts into panicked, irrational fear.

“S-sometimes,” he stammers out, face heating up as he fixes them better on his nose. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Viktor repeats, taking yet another step closer into Yuuri’s personal space. “You shouldn’t be sorry for looking good, you know!”

Oh, Yuuri has turned to stone, and if someone were to poke him now he would definitely break into a million pieces. As it is, he narrowly avoids choking on his own tongue by half-running backwards until his back hits the wall. The room really is too small, but never has it felt _this_ small before.

“Anyway, I really wanted to thank you for saving my life, Yuuri. I thought I was done for!”

It should be illegal, the way Viktor says his name. The sound of it licks up his spine, burns at his chest and cheeks. It’s only the third time, and yet he feels as if his name is now ruined for anyone else’s tongue, rolling from Viktor’s as if he owns it.

Viktor needs to leave right now, before Yuuri embarrasses himself for all eternity. They weren’t supposed to meet like this. He should know, he’s imagined their first meeting so many times inside his head that he’s lost count. Always, it begins with Yuuri claiming that gold star in the Academy’s Six Stars competition, earning himself a ship, a crew, and the title of Captain. And then, once he’s a captain and standing on the same level as Viktor, _then_ he will greet him because he will _be_ someone.

He won’t just be Yuuri, plain and simple with silly fears and awkward social skills.

Belatedly, he realizes that Viktor’s been waiting for a reply all this time.

“It’s no problem, really!” he says, waving his hands frantically. “You don’t need to thank me!”

“But I _want_ to thank you, Yuuri.”

It must be his imagination, but it sounds as if Viktor’s voice drops an octave or two, smooth like velvet in Yuuri’s poor ears.

“It really is fine, though,” Yuuri insists, faltering at the end because Viktor is closing in on him again, pale blue eyes locked on his.

Everything about Viktor is beautiful, of course, and Yuuri has spent enough hours glued to videos and pictures of him to be sure of this. But, _those eyes_.

“Yuuri~” Viktor purrs, taking a final step to bring him close enough that Yuuri can feel his body heat through their clothes. “I don’t think it’s fine _at all_ , if I’m not allowed to thank you properly.”

He can’t breathe. Viktor’s presence is overwhelming, one forearm resting against the wall next to Yuuri’s dizzy head, knees just barely grazing. There’s a touch to his jaw, and Yuuri shivers at the slide of Viktor’s fingertips against the line of it, tilting his head up until their eyes meet.

“Now, tell me, Yuuri,” Viktor breathes, like it isn’t pathetically obvious that Yuuri has lost consciousness already. “What can I do to show you how-“

There’s a cheerful jingle blaring from the communication wristband on Viktor’s left arm, and he sends it an irritated glance before flicking his wrist to dismiss the call.

“Now, where were we,” he starts again, but whoever’s calling is persistent.

Viktor mutters something in what Yuuri suspects is Russian, leaning back and releasing Yuuri from his (pleasurable) prison.

“What,” he barks into the mic, lips forming into a pout –making him look infinite times more attractive, how even– as a long string of unintelligible but clearly angry words pour out.

Apparently Viktor has no trouble deciphering them, since he rolls his eyes and gives a short reply before ending the call.

“Hmm, it seems I must return to my ship. They’ve come all the way here to pick me up, after all.” He smiles at Yuuri, who has to brace himself against the wall so his knees don’t give out. “Show me the way? They’re in hangar three.”

Yuuri blinks. Nods. Impresses himself by separating from the wall and heading out the door, Viktor following close behind. He’s only been here a couple of months, but luckily he knows the way.

“Do you like working for Celestino, Yuuri?” Viktor asks, sidling up to him and bumping shoulders (though it’s more like Viktor’s upper arm against Yuuri’s shoulder, considering the height difference). “I haven’t talked to him much, but he seems pretty cheerful.”

“He’s nice,” Yuuri forces out, thinking it’s a small miracle that he’s still standing after that small shove considering how weak he feels.

It’s bad enough that Viktor looks at him, that he walks beside him like Yuuri is worth talking to. Soon enough he’ll realize how awkward Yuuri is, and maybe then he can go back to his room, recover, and pretend this never happened.

“I don’t think he likes me,” Viktor hums thoughtfully, causing Yuuri to stumble.

He quickly rights himself again, about to combust because Viktor’s hand is on his arm, holding him steady.

“Careful there, Yuuri. You’ll fool people into thinking you’re not top of the class!”

Oh god, but he’s _not._ He’s nothing, really, but Viktor is grinning a secret little smile at him that seems so _intimate_ , as if they’re sharing some kind of inside joke.

“We should hurry up,” he says instead of replying, breathless with embarrassment, and starts a half-run down the corridor.

“Ah, there’s no hurry, Yuuri!”

If only Viktor would stop saying his name all the time… Yuuri doesn’t think he can handle much more before his heart gives out. Taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders, Yuuri keeps his strides long and fast, but unfortunately his legs just aren’t long enough. When Viktor catches up they still have a ways to go, but thankfully he starts talking about his own ship and crew, and the cargo mission gone wrong. He listens with half an ear above the heavy beating of his heart, stealing glances when he thinks Viktor isn’t looking.

But Viktor is _always_ looking.

Yuuri is used to being looked at, but not like this. Not by _Viktor_. It’s a mind-boggling experience, and he’s torn between wanting it to last forever and wishing it had never happened at all. Either way he’s sure his soul might leave his body any second now.

“Say, Yuuri, how old are you?”

Startled by the personal question, Yuuri replies before he has time to think.

“Ah, twenty-three.”

“Really! That’s only four years younger than me! Imagine, we might have been at the Academy at the same time.”

Viktor says it like it’s a _good_ thing, and not like they’re _worlds_ apart.

“W-who knows,” he replies, hating himself for stuttering again.

Viktor must think he’s an idiot, when he can’t even hold a conversation. He takes a breath, holds it, promises himself to wait a second longer the next time he needs to talk so he won’t make it worse.

“Does Yakov still do that thing where he scares the first years with a video of the lava planet?” When Yuuri nods, he snickers to himself. “Ah, typical Yakov. Sometimes I think he just needs a hug.”

Yuuri can’t imagine the school’s Chancellor needing a hug, much less giving it to him. Maybe Viktor would be bold enough to do it, and the image of Viktor throwing his arms around the grumpy old man is too amusing. Letting out an involuntary snort, Yuuri slaps his hands over his mouth and hopes that Viktor didn’t hear it.

“Funny, isn’t it? Maybe I’ll try it next time I see him.”

Viktor looks pleased with himself, but then they reach the entrance to the hangar and Yuuri freezes on the spot.

“Ah, is this it?” Viktor asks, as if the words ‘HANGAR NO. 3’ aren’t spray painted in huge letters above the arched, open doorway leading into the huge area. “Come, Yuuri! I want to introduce you to my crew!”

Yup, there goes his soul.

“It’s fine! You must be busy, I mean I’m busy too, thank you and goodbye!”

With a quick bow according to standard Japanese protocol, Yuuri spins on his heels and runs. It’s not until he’s at a safe distance that he realizes just what he said, and he sinks into a puddle against a wall, breathing hard.

He just _ran_ from Viktor Nikiforov. He just. Did that. After thanking him.

Burying his face against his thighs, Yuuri groans out loud. Hopefully, he won’t have to meet Viktor again until the final competition round is over (if he makes it that far) and by then Viktor surely must have forgotten about him… maybe…

Oh no. _Oh no_.

Phichit. Did he hear it was Viktor?

If he did, well. Even if Viktor forgets, Yuuri won’t be able to live this down for the rest of his life.

He might as well just launch himself into space right now.

 

☆☆☆

 

“Yuuri! Good morning!”

Despite the fact that it’s nearing noon, and despite how Viktor’s excited smile heats him up from toe to head, Yuuri does not think it’s a good morning at all.

“So today it’s the lounge, huh?” Viktor notes, spinning around slowly to take in the crowded area of seats and couches. “Can you really study with all this noise?”

No, of course he can’t, but he can’t tell Viktor that. Two days ago Viktor had found him in the library, and boy had _that_ been a catastrophic event. Yesterday Yuuri hid down by the engines with some of the mechanics, because they were generally fine with that sort of thing. Unfortunately, Viktor had still found him. Of course, it’s impossible to hide for real when every crewmember can be pinpointed by the ship’s computer, but that meant Viktor had convinced Celestino he needed to know where Yuuri was, and after that he figured he might as well surrender himself to his fate.

Thus he was hiding in plain sight while lacking sleep, suffering from a mild headache, and one hundred percent sure that everyone else was gossiping about him.

So no, not a good morning, but he musters up a polite smile and hides a wince when Viktor noisily pulls the opposite chair out and slumps down in it. By now he’s starting to feel less panicked about the whole thing, and more confused. He still isn’t sure what Viktor wants with him, because surely he doesn’t need to spend hours making small talk just to give Yuuri his thanks? There _must_ be more important things he needs to do, even if he claims to have received a small vacation due to the busted mission.

“Say, Yuuri, when do you usually work out? You must have sparring and shooting classes and such, right?”

Ignoring the fantasy of Viktor working out with him, Yuuri turns his borrowed screen off and abandons studying for as long as Viktor intends to hang around today.

“In the mornings, usually.”

“Oh.” Viktor looks disappointed. “Never in the afternoons or evenings?”

Shaking his head, Yuuri starts fussing with the potted plant standing in the middle of the desk. It’s one of those friendly ones, with thin strands flowing back and forth constantly, curling around your fingers if you stroke them. They’re supposed to help with stress, but Yuuri mostly worries he’ll accidentally pull the strands off.

“Sometimes I use the simulators for practice in the evenings,” he offers, because talking to Viktor is somehow not as frightening as it was at first.

He doesn’t tell Viktor that sometimes he practices in secret at night when he can’t sleep, because no one needs to know that.

“Hmm, but when do you have fun? Celestino told me you study all the time. Don’t you have a lover?”

Viktor’s face expresses complete innocence, despite how the question might be interpreted. While Yuuri knows that most people are very open about that sort of thing, he only feels uncomfortable  when the topic is brought up. After all, he can’t just confess that the only crush he has is on a celebrity, the very same celebrity sitting in front of him right now.

“I don’t,” he says, and Viktor leans back with a broad smile.

“What about past lovers?”

And Yuuri had done so well up ‘til then, not blushing for at least five minutes.

“No comment,” he says nervously, and feels the plant tighten around a finger.

“But Yuuri, I’m curious!” Viktor is _teasing_ now, leaning forwards on his elbows and looking Yuuri up and down. “You must be very popular, no? I’ll tell you all about myself first if you want! I once had a lover that-“

“You really don’t need to!” Yuuri sputters, silently begging the little plant to let go of him so he can lean back, put some respectable distance between himself and Viktor.

“Don’t you want to know?” Viktor asks this with a frown, as if he genuinely can’t believe someone turned down the offer to hear all about his past conquests. “I was so excited to share stories!”

Regardless of the fact that the stories Yuuri have to share are practically nonexistent (unless you count fantasies involving Viktor but _that’s_ not coming out in the open), he truly can’t imagine sitting in this overcrowded lounge swapping tales about exes with Viktor. It’s too much. When Viktor leans in just a little bit more, resting his chin in one palm, Yuuri grabs the plant and holds the pot against his chest so he can push his chair back a little.

It eagerly slithers around his entire hand. _It enjoys body heat_ , he remembers, wondering how long he’ll be forced to carry it around before it lets go. He’s completely forgotten how to make it stop.

“Do you like plants, Yuuri?”

Viktor is eyeing the green, flimsy thing like it has personally offended him somehow, and Yuuri turns his face to stare down at the floor. It’s a non-descript grey, like everywhere else on the ship, dull after seeing someone as colorful as Viktor.

“Um, sure. Yeah.”

He can’t precisely say ‘actually I panicked because you’re too close and I forgot how to make the damn thing let go of me’. Who knows what Viktor would do? After several days in his presence, Yuuri has decided not to trust him at all.

“I have lots of plants on my ship. A whole garden, actually.”

“Okay.” Yuuri bites his lip against laughter, because the look of petulant bragging on Viktor’s face is something he never expected to see.

Why he feels a need to brag, Yuuri doesn’t know, but it’s more cute than annoying.

“I could show you!” Viktor exclaims, brightening up again but soon wilts when Yuuri hurries to shake his head.

No matter how many times he asks, Yuuri refuses to accompany him to his ship. It’s bad enough that Viktor seeks him out, but at least he’s in safe territory. He can escape, if he needs to. Not to mention, Viktor’s entire crew must consist of amazing people, and he has no idea why they would want to meet him. Probably it’s just one of Viktor’s ideas, and oh, does this man have _ideas_.

“Hmm, fine. If you won’t come to my ship, then at least show me your training facilities! I want to see you in action!”

“ _What_ ,” Yuuri squeaks, as always taken off guard whenever Viktor throws in a suggestion like that. “There’s nothing interesting about that!”

“Yuuri…”

Oh no. Viktor is frowning at him, those perfectly slanted eyebrows furrowing in disappointment. There is too much power in Viktor’s face, Yuuri thinks. After several seconds of this, Viktor stands up and walks around the table. With one foot he nudges Yuuri’s chair until they’re facing each other, Viktor towering over him in all his glory, Yuuri’s heartbeat a wild staccato in his chest.

“Everything about you is interesting,” Viktor continues, leaning down to grab Yuuri’s free hand with both of his. “I want to know more.”

He pulls at Yuuri’s hand, encouraging him to stand as well. Which he does, but not without a stumble or two, which only succeeds in bringing him close to Viktor. The plant, still entwined with Yuuri’s other hand, gets a frown as well.

“Are you bringing the plant?” Viktor asks, lips quirking as he peeks at Yuuri from underneath his fringe.

Several days of being subject to Viktor’s ridiculous coaxing, and it still hits him right where it hurts every time. That is, in his gut. With pleasure.

“…no?”

Beaming at him, Viktor takes a hold of the pot with one hand, twisting it lightly back and forth a few times in quick succession. When the strands shiver and slide off his wrist, Yuuri pretends he doesn’t see the triumphant look on Viktor’s face.

“Though we’re not going anywhere.”

On the inside, Yuuri is all but crying for a chance to leave, because everyone is looking at them. How couldn’t they? Viktor is an eye-catcher anywhere he goes, demanding attention. What might be worse, however, is the idea of him and Viktor all alone in one of the training rooms, sparring or whatever it is Viktor has in mind.

“Yuuri, that’s not fair,” Viktor complains, holding both his hands against his chest, pleading with his eyes. “Ever since you saved my life I’ve wanted to see what else you can do…”

His gaze slides down Yuuri’s chest, goes lower between the minimal space of their bodies, then back up again with a sweet smile like he hadn’t just eaten Yuuri alive.

“I bet those thighs of yours could crush a man.”

If words could melt bones, Yuuri would be a puddle right now. His mind has completely blanked as he tries to process what just happened. Logic says that Viktor is flirting with him. Sadly, logic doesn’t necessarily prevail when Yuuri’s mind battles with the insecurities of his heart.

“I… what?” he breathes, blinking wide-eyed at Viktor in utter confusion.

Viktor seems to take this as a good thing, however, because he brightens up (so bright that Yuuri is momentarily blinded) and tugs him along out of the room.

“I want to see all your special moves, Yuuri,” Viktor tells him as he holds his arm tight, Yuuri stumbling along in a daze.

“I really don’t think-“

“It’s this way, right?”

“Well yes, but-“

“Hmm, should we stop by your room and change first?”

“Please don’t,” Yuuri begs, embarrassed to his core as he’s dragged past countless crewmembers on their way.

When they reach the training area, lined with all sorts of rooms for different types of exercise, Yuuri is ready to blow a hole in the floor with a laser gun and sink through it. Stomach flipping nervously he leads Viktor to a room he knows will be empty, pressing his thumb against the keypad to let them in.

“Wow!” Viktor says as they enter, spinning around for the second time today to take in the smooth curve of the walls. “A gravity room!”

The entire room is a cylinder, with little hooks and handles spread out at uneven intervals. Yuuri likes it because you can manipulate gravity, practicing for different planets and ship conditions.

He also likes that very few have access to it outside of classes.

“Let’s put it to zero.”

Viktor turns the small button on the monitor, and Yuuri instantly feels his feet lose contact with the ground. Or wall, or however you want to call it. In zero gravity there aren’t really any directions, after all. Yuuri hurries to fold his glasses and leaves them to hover by the door.

“I wish I had one of these on my ship,” Viktor sighs, pushing with his toes to make a graceful dive towards the other end.

He takes a hold of one of the handles there, turning around to watch Yuuri. The way he drags his eyes up and down his body again causes shivers to run up his spine, and he can’t help a small intake of breath in anticipation.

“Here, Yuuri.” Viktor holds a hand out towards him, eyes glittering now in the dim lighting. “Let’s practice take-offs and landings.”

Wondering if he’s truly in over his head, if Viktor is just playing some game that only makes sense to him and him alone, Yuuri does as told.

He’s received smoothly, but Viktor pulls him close as if the impact was anything but. Flush against his chest, Yuuri swallows down a shaky breath. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, but Viktor doesn’t seem to mind. All he does is smile wide, upper lip a heart-shaped bow and Yuuri is _weak_.

“Nervous?” Viktor asks, squeezing him a little tighter around the waist.

Yuuri wants to say yes, but not for the reasons Viktor asks about. In here, he feels different compared to outside. He knows this place like the back of his hand, knows how to move his body. No, he’s nervous because there’s no decent reason for Viktor to watch him in here. No reason for Viktor to hold him close like this, breath against breath in the chill of the room.

“I practice in here every day,” he answers instead, feeling bold and warm in Viktor’s hold. He puts a hand on Viktor’s shoulder, the gold embroidery rough against his fingers. “And I’m not the one stuck with captain’s duties all day long.”

Viktor’s lips part, but before he can say anything Yuuri pushes off, one foot next to Viktor’s waist and twisting through the air. He’s showing off, but in here he’ll allow himself that selfish desire. Viktor came here to watch him, after all. It’s not the time to freeze with nerves.

He lands on feet and hands opposite of Viktor, back to the wall, taking a light hold of a handle afterwards. To his surprise (and embarrassment, and maybe something like pride, too) Viktor lets out a low whistle.

“There’s the Yuuri that saved me,” he mumbles, not quiet enough for Yuuri to miss it. Louder, he says, “I still believe what I said about those thighs of yours.”

It’s enough to make Yuuri’s fingers slip from the handle, and he awkwardly catches himself before he starts to drift off somewhere.

“That’s- that’s really not what thighs are for,” he protests, flustered at the way Viktor grins at him.

“Oh, and what are they for? Hmm?”

Ah, Yuuri kind of walked right into that one, didn’t he?

He wants to deflect the question, pretend he doesn’t understand. It’s the safe option, the one that won’t get him hurt. _But_. Viktor has been pushing his buttons for days now, has been invading his dreams until he can’t sleep without seeing his face as if it’s permanently branded onto the inside of his eyelids.

The thing is, he doesn’t _like_ being awkward around Viktor. The Yuuri in his dreams isn’t. _That_ Yuuri is confident, dazzling Viktor with ease.

He knows he isn’t dazzling in reality, but there’s no one else around, and Viktor is _looking_.

It’s empowering, that look. Here, in the quiet space with just the two of them, Yuuri takes a slow breath and imagines being _wanted_.

It’s exhilarating.

“Well,” he says slowly, wetting his lips. Viktor’s eyes follow the movement, glides along his jaw and back up again. “Wouldn’t you like to find out?”

Viktor’s surprise is so, so satisfying. He holds his breath, waiting, body tense and heart fluttering. He’s never done something like this, but this is _Viktor_ , and Yuuri has been wanting longer than he admits.

To have the real Viktor here is just… impossible. A dream come true earlier than hoped. Scarier than anything.

But he _is_ here, oh so slowly relaxing his grip on the wall and maneuvering his body in preparation to meet Yuuri on the other side.

“I would,” Viktor starts, and Yuuri bites his lip. “Yuuri, I-“

Whatever Viktor’s about to say is interrupted by the buzzing on Yuuri’s wrist, and a second later Celestino’s voice rings through the silence.

“Yuuri! Where are you?”

“Um, by the training rooms, why?”

“Perfect! I’ve got a bunch of first-years here that could use a helping hand. We’re in _Galassio_.”

The call ends as abruptly as it started, and Yuuri swallows down a sigh. What was he thinking anyway? That he could actually _be_ with Viktor like that? It’s ridiculous.

“Galassio?”

“Celestino’s Italian,” Yuuri explains as he heads back to the monitor. “All the rooms have names in Italian, so galassio would be galaxy.”

“Interesting,” Viktor replies blandly, and Yuuri slowly turns the gravity back to standard. “So, you help out with classes? I’m not surprised, you’re obviously very good.”

Yuuri fumbles with his glasses, blushing at the praise.

“It’s nothing,” he mumbles, opening the door. “Sorry about this.”

“It’s fine, I’ll come back tomorrow. Unless you’ll finally take me up on that offer to show you around my ship? You’re welcome anytime.”

Viktor takes his hand, strokes across his knuckles with a thumb. It’s highly distracting, and Yuuri is quick to retreat it back to safety. He’s supposed to say no, he doesn’t _do_ this, and what little confidence he’d found earlier has disappeared. Plus, Viktor probably does this all the time with no deeper meaning to it. He doesn’t want to say no, but he doesn’t want it to happen like this, either.

It startles him, the realization. He _wants_ Viktor, always has, because the man is gorgeous and perfect and apparently also ridiculously stubborn, but he made a promise to himself. That when they met, Yuuri would be standing on the same level, able to face him straight-backed and in control.

“I…”

It’s difficult, though. How can he say no when Viktor is so… so _Viktor_.

 “I don’t think I can,” he forces out, averting his eyes. “Sorry, I really need to go now.”

He turns, feeling as if he’s forgotten how to walk. Somehow he makes it a few steps before Viktor calls softly to him, though he doesn’t stop.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Yuuri!”

 

☆☆☆

 

When Viktor enters the control bridge he knows there’s a stupid smile on his face. He can’t help it, really, but he lets it widen just that little bit to make it obnoxious.

It’s okay, because most of the crew won’t be present right now.

“Tch, back already? Did lover boy throw you out or what.”

“Now now, Yuri, careful or people might think you’re jealous.”

Yuri (the one with a short u, and lately that distinction has become very important) scoffs at him from his seat by the huge windscreen at the ship’s front. While Viktor didn’t precisely want to take on an Academy student for a couple months each year, Yakov had persuaded him to start last year. And so he was currently stuck with little Yuri Plisetsky, eighteen years old and much too proficient at swearing at him in Russian.

“Jealous?! We were supposed to practice emergency docking with a space shuttle today!”

Viktor claps a fist into his palm.

“Oops, I knew there was something! But we can do it after lunch.”

He doesn’t want to do it after lunch, not because Yuri is a difficult student or anything. He’d just planned to spend the whole day with Yuuri, that’s all, and now that he can’t he might want to mope around a bit. Maybe relive the almost-moment they had.

“Ugh, you’ve got that dumb smile on your face again. Mila, tell him to stop it.”

“Don’t bring _me_ into this,” Mila says, hands held up in front of her. “I don’t have a problem with Viktor sneaking out every day to go on cute dates.”

“Today, he took me to their gravity training room. You should have seen it! If Celestino hadn’t called to make him teach some first-years… Ah well, my Yuuri is so busy!”

He throws himself into his captain’s seat, sighing wistfully as he remembers how tight Yuuri’s tights were. It should be illegal, really.

“Wait, what did you say his name was?”

Viktor blinks, having almost forgotten both his little student and the head of his task force already.

“Yuuri,” he says, putting emphasis on the longer vowels. “Why, I thought you didn’t care?”

To his surprise, Yuri’s face contorts in a mixture of irritation and exasperation.

“And he’s on Celestino’s ship?” Viktor nods. “And you said he wears glasses sometimes?”

Viktor nods again, wincing as Yuri lets out a particularly nasty expletive.

“Is there a problem?” he asks, crossing his arms with a raised eyebrow.

Of course, for Yuri there is always a problem, but Viktor doesn’t like how it somehow involves _his_ Yuuri.

“Yeah there’s a goddamn problem!”Yuri grumbles, jumping out of his seat and starting to pace the length of the windscreen, where some of the enormous space station hangar can be seen. “I can’t believe that dumb katsudon saved your ass!”

Katsudon? Viktor’s never heard that word before, but it sounds cute. He’ll have to ask Yuuri tomorrow.

“Hold on a minute- you _know_ him?”

Yuri looks extremely annoyed with the fact that he does, rolling his eyes.

“Do I know him? Everyone fucking knows him. He’s the guy who broke your record last year in the simulator test, and then dropped out of the whole competition because he had some kind of freak-out at the interview part.”

“You know, I think we need to have a talk about your attitude sometime,” Viktor scolds, then taps a finger against his chin in thought. “Hmm, are you sure he’s the same person? He didn’t say anything about aiming for the captain’s title.”

“About this tall, dark hair and brown eyes, always flustered? It’s definitely him.”

“Wow,” Viktor says, because what else can he say?

His soft Yuuri with killer thighs and a braver heart than most – to think he’s the same person who broke his old record. Maybe he should have paid more attention last year when Yakov told him about it.

“I thought I heard your voice, Viktor. Back already?”

“Chris! Yuri just told me that _my_ Yuuri is the same person who broke my record last year! Isn’t that incredible! It has to be fate.”

“Ah, so you found out.” Chris scratches at his stubble, not looking the least bit guilty over withholding information from him despite being his trusted vice captain. “I was wondering when you’d connect the dots.”

“Chris…” Viktor gives him his best look of betrayal, sliding lower in his seat. “Is there something else I should know? Wait! So he failed last year’s round, does that mean he’ll retry in the upcoming one?”

“Unfortunately,” Yuri mutters, and Mila snickers at him as if she knows a joke that Viktor doesn’t.

“Maybe I’ll call Yakov and ask.”

“Or,” Chris suggests, “you could just ask Yuuri himself. Who I notice isn’t here today either.”

“Don’t remind me.” Viktor pouts a little, because he thinks he deserves it after being shot down so coldly. And things had been heading in such a good direction, too! “I think he’s a bit shy.”

Yuri snorts, and Viktor sends him a look.

“As far as I know, katsudon hasn’t even been on a single date in all his time at school. He’s a hopeless case.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Chris comments, giving Viktor a cheeky smile. “Now you can’t seduce him into working for you.”

“I wasn’t doing that!” Viktor protests lamely, because it isn’t entirely wrong. He does want to seduce Yuuri, and he wouldn’t be sad if Yuuri happened to stay onboard. “I just don’t see why he can’t come visit me. Did you know he likes plants? I should show him the gardens when he does come here.”

“Alright, alright,” Mila tells him, patting his shoulder gently as she passes by. “Just don’t get all heartbroken when we get going again. I don’t want to explain to Yakov that you got yourself killed for real this time because you were lovesick. Though, I guess all you need is a stupid hero complex.”

 “It wasn’t because of a hero complex!” he calls after her, wondering when they’ll let his almost-death slide. “And I would live forever if Yuuri was here!”

“Disgusting,” Yuri mutters, but Viktor knows he’s only starved for attention.

“If you tell me Yuuri’s favorite color, I’ll teach you everything I know about docking shuttles,” he tells him with a too-wide smile.

“I’d rather die.”

Apparently, Yuuri’s favorite color is blue.

 

☆☆☆

 

Now, Viktor wouldn’t say he’s spoiled, but life has been rather kind to him until now. So _why_ is Yuuri’s ship _not_ in its place when he goes to visit the next day? Maybe he used up all his luck when escaping sure death. And sure, maybe it’s because Celestino is there for his students to actually practice, but Yuuri _could have said something_.

He can’t remember the last time he felt so utterly disappointed. Back in two days, the guy in charge of that section of the hangar had told him. Two days! That’s 48 hours! Over 160,000 seconds that he needs to wait before he can see Yuuri again. And then, the day after that, Viktor has to leave himself.

It’s as if reality comes crashing down, reminding him that just because Yuuri is the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, it doesn’t mean that he can expect things to work out perfectly.

Viktor was never one to give up early though, and there is just no way of misinterpreting Yuuri’s reactions to him. Even now he can’t help the warmth pooling in his chest and stomach, simply from imagining Yuuri’s lips on his. He wants Yuuri, and he wants Yuuri to want him in return. It’s simple, but also not simple at all.

He knows his friends think he’s just head over heels because of the adrenaline shock when Yuuri saved him, and it might have been partly true in the beginning. Viktor has been saved before, of course. It comes with the job. He’s been attracted to lots of people, too. Yuuri isn’t better-looking than others, but he makes his head spin with only a smile and a look, which means that Viktor can’t explain his attraction purely on a physical level.

He keeps catching himself thinking about Yuuri, little things he’s said and done, his expressions when Viktor touches him. His heart has acquired this permanent sort of _flutter_ , attacking him when he least expects it.

So it can’t be purely physical, but the problem is that Viktor _only knows_ physical. He never strayed further, never dated his friends and never tried to be friends with his lovers. Yuuri, however, makes him wonder what it would be like. To have someone special, to say _my Yuuri_ and have it actually mean something real.

He doesn’t want to think about it, but now he’s got two days on his hands with nothing _but_ time to think.

 _I wonder if Yuuri is worried that he didn’t tell me they were leaving_ , he thinks as he walks slowly back towards his ship, not eager to let the others know of his predicament, but also not interested in lingering outside. _I hope he doesn’t think I’m angry…_

He should have stayed yesterday, joining Yuuri and the first-years. He’d wanted to, but somehow when the moment was lost it had made sense to give Yuuri some space.

The whole way back to his ship he contemplates what he’ll say to Yuuri when he returns. He can’t precisely ask Yuuri to come work for him, not when he’s going to become a captain himself (and when Viktor doesn’t want them to be mere colleagues). Nor can he suddenly leave his own life for someone like that, even if Yuuri is very pretty…

Outside the ship he stops, rubbing his face viciously. It’s as if the past few days have been a pleasant dream, and now his body is trying to wake him up. He doesn’t _want_ to wake up. The dream has barely even started, after all. There’s so much more he wants to know, wants to do with Yuuri. Every minute they spend together, Viktor falls just a little bit harder.

Maybe the tiny, angry Yuri is right. Maybe there _is_ a problem, and that problem is reality.

When Chris finds him, he’s pacing the length of the dock, mumbling to himself.

“No date today either?” he asks, far too amused for Viktor’s increasing frustration.

“Chris,” he pleads, grabbing his old friend by the arms. “I’m not thinking clearly. Please distract me!”

“Hmm, alright. We just got a call from the space station Commander, Sara Crispino. She’s planning a banquet tomorrow evening and you’re invited as the special guest of honor.”

“I asked you to distract me, not bring me bad news,” Viktor sighs, letting go of Chris to run his hands through his hair.

“Well, she seemed very excited. Apparently things can get pretty dull out here. I mean, for those of us who don’t meet the love of our lives.”

Viktor gives him a look.

“If you’re trying to make me feel guilty, you’re not succeeding. Celestino’s ship doctor told me to get a few days of rest, you know.”

“I should have known your version of resting is to flirt with pretty boys.”

He knows that Chris expects him to joke back, because that’s what his flirting has always been before. A joke. A way to pass time, to ward off some of the loneliness that staring into space inevitably calls forth.

This is anything but.

“What if he _is,_ though. The love of my life. How do I know? What do I _do?_ ”

“Viktor…”

Chris guides him to one of the benches lining the fence that separates their narrow dock from a plunge of kilometers.

“I didn’t realize you were serious about this. Are you sure?”

“I’m not sure about anything anymore,” Viktor groans, burying his face in his hands. “I barely know him, but it feels like my whole world _shifted_ after I met him. Do you think I hit my head or something?”

For the past hour, his head’s been filled with nothing but questions. What if this, what if that, what if he never sees Yuuri again? That last one is the only one he’s sure of the answer to – he’d be miserable.

“I think,” Chris starts after a moment’s contemplation, “that you should definitely let me plan the wedding. I’ll make it extra beautiful.”

Viktor can’t help it – he imagines it, sees a small and intimate setting, Yuuri surrounded by flowers, clad in deep blue while bright-eyed and all smiles for him.

“Oh god,” he groans into his hands. “I won’t get to see him until they come back tomorrow night, and now I have to go to some banquet instead? I regret being alive.”

“So just invite him,” Chris shrugs, and just like that, Viktor’s problems are solved.

 

☆☆☆

 

When Viktor finally sees Yuuri again, he looks miserable. Like he’s been dragged there by the collar, Celestino patting his back consolingly as Viktor sees them through the throngs of people. He can’t see them properly, only a glimpse before they disappear again, but Viktor’s chests feels instantly light. As he makes to follow them, Mila grabs a hold of his elbow to hold him back.

“Easy there, Captain. If I have to suffer through socializing then so do you.”

“But Mila…” he tries, sending her his best puppy eyes though he knows it’s futile.

“When have you ever skipped out on your duties, huh? Yakov would scold you.”

“Yakov isn’t here.” Still, he knows he can’t just ignore all the people invited to meet him, especially not when there’s a not so discreet line of guests waiting for Commander Crispino to start the meet and greet.

As nice as she is, Viktor has never wished so badly to be just a regular person.

“There’s nothing interesting about him anyway,” Yuri complains, readjusting the collar of his fancy silver, white, and glitter ensemble for the umpteenth time. “You can do better.”

“Better than the man who broke my record?” Viktor hums in pretend thought, tapping his mouth. “Speaking of how you complained that Yuuri hates social events…”

“We were _not_ speaking about that, and I was certainly not complaining on his behalf!”

Viktor beams at him.

“You see all these people, Yuri? I’m sure they would all love to get to know you, but since you’re so worried about our little katsudon having a bad time, why don’t you do me a favor?”

He can see understanding followed by horror dawn in Yuri’s eyes, and he would find it amusing if he didn’t feel actual concern that Yuuri might leave before he has time to deal with the seemingly endless amount of people.

It takes a lot of convincing and fast talking before Yuri slinks away to find the other Yuuri, only promising to keep him company under the threat of being demoted to errand boy for the rest of his stay on the ship. He still hasn’t figured out if the two are friends or not, but hopefully he can ask Yuuri about it later.

(What else they can do later, he tries not to think about. It’s hard enough to smile at people as it is.)

It feels like endless hours spent trying not to crawl out of his skin, but while usually he simply wants to return to his ship out of boredom, he is now stressed for a completely different reason. Will Yuuri still be here, waiting for him when it ends? He already met Celestino, but the other captain only waved his questions off, telling him that Yuuri would be fine. He didn’t seem to realize that Viktor asked for his presence for entirely selfish reasons, and Viktor didn’t correct his assumption that it was an invitation out of courtesy. It doesn’t matter, as long as Yuuri wants to see him.

He has planned a lot of things to say when he meets Yuuri again, prepared entire conversations inside his head that all end happily in bed somehow. What he has not planned for, is for the Russian Yuri to come running, short on breath and a little wild around the eyes.

“Viktor! It’s an emergency!”

“What happened? Is everyone alright? The ship, or-“

Yuri shakes his head, grabbing his arm and starting to pull him towards the other end of the banquet hall.

“Katsudon started drinking, I thought it was alcohol-free stuff! He forced me into a stupid dance-off!”

Viktor blinks away his surprise, catching up to Yuri and searching the commotion over by a corner for black hair.

“A dance-off? And how could you not know he was drinking, weren’t you talking to him?”

“I…” Yuri averts his eyes, grumbling something under his breath in Russian that makes Viktor sigh.

Maybe he should have known better than to entrust his precious Yuuri with someone else. However, a drunk Yuuri is a problem if it means he has to return to-

Viktor stops short. They’ve reached the corner now, the crowd parting to reveal none other than Yuuri spinning some half-terrified, half-elated waitress around.

He looks… _gorgeous_ doesn’t cover it. With his hair slicked back and dressed in tight black clothes with silver details gleaming in the light, he seems to glow in tune to the low sound of music playing. There’s a happy flush on his cheeks, a few strands of hair sticking out to the sides. He spins the girl around, dipping her low before lifting her up again. There’s a twisting feeling in Viktor’s stomach, his throat dry as the music fades to switch songs. When Yuuri lets the girl go he takes a step forward, breath hitching in his throat when Yuuri turns to him and squints.

He’s not wearing his glasses, but his eyes sparkle as he recognizes Viktor.

“Viktor!” Yuuri launches forward, throwing his arms around Viktor’s neck. “Where have you been?”

“Oh, um.” Viktor falters, arms moving automatically to hold Yuuri by the waist, all thought vanished with Yuuri’s face close enough for their breaths to mingle.

“I thought you wanted to see me,” Yuuri murmurs, pressing a little closer, and he’s so _bold_ that Viktor can’t help a small shiver.

“I did. I mean I do.” He wets his lips, tugging Yuuri upwards a little, regretting this decision when their noses brush.

If only they were alone…

“Mm,” Yuuri hums, narrowing those lovely eyes of his and straightening up a bit. “Dance with me.”

There are several guests that Viktor hasn’t greeted yet, but a quick glance backwards tells him Yuri is nowhere to be seen, and there’s a drunk, beautiful man offering him a dance. _Ordering_ him, more like.

“I would love a dance with you, Yuuri,” he smiles, bringing a hand up to take one of Yuuri’s, fingertips trailing along his wrist. “I might be a bit rusty, though.”

Yuuri’s fingers latch around his, gripping them tight and secure. Rather than dance, Viktor feels like he’s about to dive headfirst through that ventilation tunnel again, with only Yuuri to guide him.

It’s exhilarating.

“Just follow my lead,” Yuuri says, pauses, gives him a strange look like he can’t quite decide if he should backtrack his words or not.

Luckily he doesn’t, only nods and brings Viktor away from the edge of the crowd and into the empty space that Yuuri has created for himself. They stop there, standing still while Yuuri seems to listen for the music. Viktor takes the moment to look at him, trace the flush on his cheeks, the slant of his nose and the bow of his mouth. He looks relaxed, absentmindedly humming under his breath.

“Ah, there it is,” Yuuri says, but before Viktor can ask what he means they’re moving.

It takes a while to get used to, the easy way Yuuri guides him with his body. Viktor tries to make sense of the different Yuuris he’s seen, tries to organize them in his mind like a picture book. It’s not the easiest thing, least of all when Yuuri lets out a peal of laughter as he fumbles to mimic a few steps meant to be done without touching each other.

Viktor laughs, too. He laughs and smiles until his cheeks ache with it, breathless with the quick steps and the warmth of Yuuri’s hands on his body. Yuuri is a bright star and Viktor can’t look away, can’t see anything outside his halo of light.

“You’re so good at this,” he sighs in wonder once, delighted at the red creeping across Yuuri’s nose.

He looks different dressed like this, but Viktor can see all the parts of him mingled together as his mood shifts with every piece of music, bringing out different pulsating emotions inside Viktor’s chest.

“I loved to dance as a child,” Yuuri mumbles, shy as he places a hand on Viktor’s hip and angles it for another complicated step. “I still do it when I find the time.”

He sends Viktor a small smile, a quick moment of electric eye contact that leaves Viktor aching for more. When was the last time he felt this alive while perfectly safe? Viktor can’t remember, because the two are usually never felt at the same time. Yuuri, however, draws emotion out of Viktor like he’s created a wormhole through a protective shield.

“Again but faster,” Yuuri tells him after half a song, and all Viktor can do is concentrate on the movement of their bodies, of Yuuri pressed up against him, of knitted brows and teasing quirks of lips.

“Again but closer,” Viktor says, voice rough from exertion and hairs plastered to his forehead, body thrumming like an electric field when Yuuri complies.

They’re so close, and Viktor _wants_. He wants this dumb layer of fabric to disappear from between their bodies, wants Yuuri’s hands on his skin, not torturing him with this almost-but-not-quite _there_ that has Viktor burning up with need.

“Yuuri, _please,_ ” he begs into his ear, one hand curled around the hairs at Yuuri’s nape, the other holding him by the waist. “My ship is really close…”

He brushes his lips across the sensitive skin there, closing his eyes when Yuuri melts into him. While he could stand like this forever, nose pressed into Yuuri’s hair, he doubts he can hold back much longer.

“Ah, so you really are kidnapping me,” Yuuri mumbles into his shoulder, fitting perfectly in the space there. “Phichit was right.”

“Who’s Phichit?”

“My roommate… He said you’re kidnapping me so I can’t break more of your records. So, are you?”

“Kidnapping you?” When Yuuri nods, he pulls him closer and laughs quietly against his temple. “Definitely, but for a very different reason.”

Yuuri sighs, breath hot against Viktor’s neck. Viktor wants so badly to push his face closer, feel his mouth more intimately.

“Okay,” Yuuri says and leans back to look at him, all soft and pretty, his smile honey-sweet. “Please take me to your ship, Viktor.”

Viktor doesn’t think he’s ever walked that fast out of a party before. With Yuuri in a secure grip by the hand he waves down a taxi shuttle, not letting go as he gives directions to the shuttle’s computer. He kisses Yuuri’s palm, drags his lips along his wrist until Yuuri gasps.

“Viktor…”

“I want you,” he murmurs into the smooth skin, heart picking up speed when Yuuri’s eyes widen. “What about you, Yuuri?”

Closing Yuuri’s fingers he kisses each knuckle, never breaking eye contact. There’s a burning heat in his gut, a painful lump in his throat that only Yuuri’s touch can dissolve. How does Yuuri do it? Making him so desperate, blind to the rest of the universe.

“Please,” Yuuri whispers, his hand trembling as he lifts it towards Viktor’s face. “I just…”

When his fingertips touch Viktor’s jaw he adds something in a language Viktor doesn’t understand –Japanese, probably– before sighing deeply. It’s enough to make Viktor’s fingers twitch, jaw clenching with restraint. He wants this man _so much_ -

“Can I really have you?” Yuuri’s eyes flick towards his mouth, lingering there. His gaze sends a trail of fire down Viktor’s throat, floods his heart with flames. “I don’t know what to do…”

“ _Anything_ ,” Viktor chokes out, grabbing Yuuri’s hand and placing it on his own chest, shuddering when Yuuri crawls closer on the seat. “You can do anything to me.”

The hand slides lower, gently pushing him back to lean on the door. It’s uncomfortable, but Yuuri nudges his jacket aside to explore the skin underneath.

“Oh…”

Yuuri drinks him in with wide eyes, bites his lip when Viktor moves one leg to Yuuri’s other side, trapping him between them. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Viktor remembers they’re still in the shuttle, the space too cramped for this to work. He can’t bring himself to care, not when Yuuri tentatively moves closer, pushes his jacket and the shirt underneath further up.

“What do you want, Yuuri?”

Viktor knows exactly what _he_ wants, but he wants to make sure Yuuri wants it, too. He’s breathing hard already, clinging to the plush fabric of the seat. At this rate he might lose his mind, Yuuri’s gaze eating him alive.

“I want…”

Yuuri places both hands over Viktor’s hips, holds him down with both hands and eyes. Viktor’s skin burns where they connect, and there’s a very real chance he’ll explode if Yuuri keeps teasing him like this.

“I want to win gold.”

The words are unexpected, and Viktor blinks through his confusion. But Yuuri still holds him down, runs his eyes up and down his chest and stomach calculatingly, like he can’t decide where to start.

Oh, Viktor hopes he starts with a kiss.

“I want to win, so I can have my own ship, my own crew.” He moves closer, pushes Viktor’s legs apart and drags his hands up along his sides, leaning in to breathe against his lips. “And I’ll get my own advisor the first year.”

While he doesn’t know _why_ , he realizes that Yuuri is talking about the Six Stars competition. His train of thought doesn’t get much further than that, because Yuuri’s mouth is very distracting, so close that Viktor can feel his lips tingle with the phantom touch.

“I want something very selfish.”

Yuuri breathes these words like a confession, one hand tangling in Viktor’s hair, tilting his head back so that their eyes meet. The shuttle has stopped, a pleasant voice informing them that they have reached their destination, but neither of them acknowledge this.

They’re far too busy making love through eye contact alone.

“I did say _anything_ ,” Viktor mumbles, unclenching his hands from the seat to grip the back of Yuuri’s shirt.

When Yuuri releases a heavy breath, Viktor can’t help but pull him down, press their bodies together. Their lips brush, and Viktor _wants_ , yet he can’t move. Yuuri’s hands are cupping his face, holding him still, slowly letting him roast from the inside out with helpless desire.

His fingers twist in the flimsy fabric of Yuuri’s shirt, feel the curve of his back and the heat of his skin, breaths quick and short against his chest. He wonders if this is how it feels a second before being sucked into a black hole, so captured by its beauty that there’s no room for despair in the face of the inevitable.

Viktor wants, and he can’t imagine ever _not_ wanting.

It should be frightening, to feel this way, when Yuuri is still half a stranger.

It isn’t.

“I want you that year,” Yuuri tells him, his voice sweet poison that Viktor would drink again and again. “I’ve dreamt of it, what it would be like, what _you_ would be like.”

Viktor sucks in a breath, forgets to let it out until Yuuri presses soft lips to the corner of his mouth.

“This feels better than a dream,” Yuuri whispers, drawing in a shaky breath before blushing furiously and turning his face to the side. “God, I’m so drunk. It’s _not_ a dream, I shouldn’t be-”

Viktor silences him with a kiss, groaning as they _finally_ connect.

“I’ll be your advisor forever, just _please_ spend the night with me first.”

“Oh, um.” Yuuri licks his lips, a slow drag of his tongue that has Viktor's breath catching. “That’s a pretty good offer, I suppose.”

“Mm, it’s very good.” Viktor winks at him, then raises his hips so that Yuuri can feel _just_ how good it is. “Fantastic, actually.”

Letting out a small hiss, Yuuri’s fingers tighten in his hair before he slumps against him again, nose pressing into Viktor’s cheek.

“We’re still in the shuttle, aren’t we?” he mumbles, the pad of his thumb stroking a path down the side of Viktor’s throat.

“Mm, so it seems.”

“That’s not good.” Viktor can feel Yuuri frown, shaping silent words that tickle his cheek until he seems to find his voice again. “It means I can’t hold you properly.”

Startled, Viktor lets out a laugh, pushing Yuuri up until he sits in his lap. His hair has mostly returned to its usual style, covering his forehead, and Viktor tucks a few strands behind his ear to no avail, smiling so hard it hurts. Yuuri looks beautiful like this, like he’s upset that he can’t teleport them inside his apartment on his own.

It feels so good it hurts.

“We’ll solve that problem soon,” Viktor says, tapping Yuuri’s bottom lip twice, letting his finger rest against it. “Kiss me first?”

Yuuri does something else. He reaches over, but instead of taking a hold of Viktor he opens the door, maneuvering both of them until they’re standing on the small platform outside Viktor’s living quarters. It takes some effort but once they’re out, Yuuri pushes him up against the sleek metal of the ship, fingers laced and hips aligned.

“I’ll hold you to it,” Yuuri promises against his mouth, seals it with a kiss that has Viktor weak at the knees. “When I win gold, you better be there.”

There’s not much else he can do besides nod eagerly, and tilt his chin for another kiss. When Yuuri leans in he feels his heart pound inside his chest, every part of his body yearning to be close to him again.

Then Yuuri pauses.

Sways a little.

Slaps a hand across his mouth and makes a weird noise.

“Yuuri?”

The other man shakes his head and takes a step back, cold sweat gathering at his forehead.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Yuuri groans, and Viktor spends a moment hoping that he heard him wrong.

When Yuuri drops into a squat and produces another pitiful groan, he’s forced to face reality. Slamming his palm against the door he helps Yuuri inside before it even opens fully, rushing him gently to the bathroom as his face grows paler by the second.

It isn’t how he imagined his night to end, tucking an exhausted and shivering Yuuri into bed – but he can’t complain, not really. Yuuri’s there, after all, curled up against him for warmth, falling asleep as Viktor caresses his hair and cheek.  It’s strange, and new, to feel like that’s enough.

 _I must have hit my head really hard,_ he thinks, snuggling closer to Yuuri in the dark.

Tomorrow, he’ll ask Yuuri if he wants some help with studying.

 

☆☆☆

 

Yuuri wakes up to Celestino’s voice yelling in his ear.

“-are you?! I have a whole bunch of first-years here waiting to take their tests, so where are _you_?”

He groans something unintelligible, not yet awake but aware enough that he knows an answer is expected.

“Yuuri? Is everything okay? You didn’t return last night.”

Now _that_ makes Yuuri wake up much faster. Rubbing at his eyes he turns on his back, squinting in the low light coming from outside. Where _is_ he?

“I’m alive,” he forces out, throat dry and tasting like crap. “Not sure where.”

“Well, try to find out and come here as soon as you can, alright?”

Celestino ends the call, and Yuuri sighs. Who thought it was a good idea to let calls from captains go through without needing to be accepted first? Someone who was never hungover, probably.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he tries to decide if he feels nauseated or not. He has a vague memory of throwing up, and oh god- Did he go home with someone last night?! And then _threw up_?

“Oh no, oh no no no,” he moans into his hands, then slides them down to check if he’s wearing clothes.

He is, luckily. Not his shoes though, but he finds them by the foot of the bed. There doesn’t seem to be anyone else around, and Yuuri is very thankful for that. He doesn’t know how he would face another person right now. There’s a screen on the bedside table, blinking evenly with a message notification, but Yuuri doesn’t spare it more than a glance as he makes for what he hopes is the door leading outside.

The first thing he realizes is that he’s on a ship, not in a hotel like he initially thought. The second thing is that he has absolutely no idea how to get out. Ships aren’t designed to be easy to leave, after all. Feeling the first hints of panic, Yuuri takes deep breaths and tries to orient himself. It probably doesn’t matter which direction he picks, but he makes for the left. All the doors along the corridors he wanders down are closed, no crew to be seen. It’s both a blessing and a curse, because the longer he keeps walking, the more he’d prefer the embarrassment of being found over getting lost here forever.

“Oi! Katsudon!”

Yuuri freezes. Of all the people in the universe, the one person who keeps finding him in embarrassing situations just _has_ to be on this ship. Why?!

“Y-Yurio,” he stammers out as he turns around, flinching when the younger student stalks over to him.

“That’s not my name, damn it!” he seethes, and Yuuri laughs nervously as he stops right in front of him. “Are you leaving or something?”

“I… Yes. Celestino called, I’m supposed to help grade a test and I overslept…”

Why does Yurio not look surprised to find him here? Yuuri doesn’t want to think of possible reasons, he just wants to sink through a hole in the floor and die. If Yurio saw him last night at the party – and who knows what he did because he has absolutely no memories of it – then the probability of this ship being Viktor’s just rose infinitely.

He absolutely cannot let Viktor see him like this.

“Tch, you’re both useless,” Yurio mutters, walking past Yuuri and flicking his hair to make him follow.  “The elevators are over here.”

“Oh, thank you, Yurio.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that’s not my name?!”

Wincing at the loud words, Yuuri tries not to let his eyes water from the headache he’s sporting. It doesn’t help that he isn’t wearing his glasses, or that Yurio is wearing enough glitter to make him dizzy.

“Sorry, habit I guess.”

When Yurio had been a lot smaller (and a lot cuter), Yuuri had been the dorm manager for his bunch of first-years. He’d told his family about the angry little blond, and eventually his sister had come up with the nickname just to make things simpler. Somehow it stuck, but he has to admit he likes to use it because he’s sure that Yurio secretly enjoys it.

Kind of sure, at least.

“All your habits are terrible,” Yurio mutters, then switches to Russian for a while, most likely to complain about him.

As awful as it is to be caught by Yurio of all people as he sneaks out of a ship he doesn’t remember entering, at least he knows the younger man won’t spread any rumors. Yuuri has much more dirt on him than the other way around.

“Here,” Yurio says, pointing at a set of elevators. “Just go to the floor marked ‘E’ and you’ll be right at the exit.”

“That’s great, thank you!”

Yurio rolls his eyes, then seems to hesitate a bit.

“So are you really…” he bites his lips, scowling all of a sudden. “You totally owe me one!” he grits out, crossing his arms in an attempt to look intimidating.

It would work if Yuuri wasn’t so used to it by now.

“Yeah, okay,” he sighs, stepping into the elevator. “I’ll see you back at the Academy, stay safe!”

“Idiot,” he hears Yurio mutter as the doors start closing, and then, “You two deserve each other for being so dumb.”

It’s like getting a bucket of cold water dumped on his head. He shakes it, trying to convince himself he heard it wrong. There’s no _way_ that Yurio would know who he came here with… is there? A sense of dread creeps up Yuuri’s back, clawing at his throat. He knows Viktor invited him, remembers standing in a corner by the drinks and wondering why he had to be there, if Viktor wasn’t even talking to him. Judging by how much he must have drunk, Viktor probably hadn’t even bothered to say hello.

He slumps against the mirror, running a hand through his hair that feels all nasty from product and dried sweat. He can’t believe he drank until he forgot, then went home with someone else _to Viktor’s ship_ , missed his meeting time with Celestino _and_ thirty students he was supposed to be a role model for, and got caught trying to sneak out.

Will he ever be able to face Viktor again? He wants to see him, can’t help but revisit the small hope that he didn’t spend days with him just on a whim, but…

He sinks to the floor, knocking his forehead against his knees. Yurio is right, he’s so _dumb_ , screwing up like this. He really can’t handle himself at parties, and he _knows_ what he gets like when he drinks. He’s seen his father, after all, and it’s not pretty.

When the elevator door pings open, he scrambles to get up, swaying with a momentary wave of nausea.

He can only hope that Viktor didn’t notice any of this.

Anything else, he buries deep underneath a layer of shame.

 

☆☆☆

 

Viktor sits on his bed, staring at the screen where an unread message blinks mockingly at him.

Yuri told him he left because of Celestino’s call, but he can’t help but feel disappointed that Yuuri didn’t leave a message, or at least read the one Viktor had left for him. Maybe he just missed it. Maybe he doesn’t know that Viktor has to take his ship and leave soon, if he wants to make it on time for his next mission. It’s possible that Viktor forgot to tell him with everything else happening.

“Aah, what should I do,” he sighs into the empty room, feeling empty with the knowledge that they won’t cross paths in the coming months.

He doesn’t even know when Yuuri will return to the Academy in preparation for his tests…

_When I win gold, you better be there._

It never crossed his mind before, to take time off and guide a freshly graduated captain for their first year on duty. Usually only the older, seasoned captains would do it, and Viktor thought it was annoying enough to have an Academy intern to look after. But if it was Yuuri…

He turns his wrist, bringing up a small holographic screen to scroll through his contacts. Maybe he’s out of his mind, and Yakov will definitely yell at him, but Viktor will choose to believe.

And once he’s settled things with Yakov, he’ll beg Celestino for Yuuri’s contact details.

 

☆☆☆

 

[ _Yuuri, I’ll be the one handing out the stars at the graduation ceremony this year. I am very much looking forward to see you win gold as you promised. I can’t wait to meet you again, my Yuuri.]_

“Aha!”

Yuuri nearly jumps out of his skin, dropping the screen on his lap as Phichit slams the door to their dorm room open.

“Phichit, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

There’s no remorse on Phichit’s face as he jumps onto Yuuri’s bed, bouncing once before scooting close enough that Yuuri has to lean back.

“Guess what _I_ heard,” Phichit starts, whispering conspiratorially even though they’re the only ones present. “Viktor Nikiforov’s ship just docked in the visitor’s bay.”

“Is that so,” Yuuri mumbles, trying but failing not to blush.

He almost got caught re-reading the message Viktor sent him months ago, after all. That he’s here is no surprise – the graduation competitions started yesterday. Yuuri isn’t up for another two days, when the first round for hopeful future captains is held. Plenty of time to spend avoiding Viktor, then.

“Oh, come on,” Phichit pouts, “I thought you’d be surprised. Does that mean you _do_ talk to him? Katsuki Yuuri, I thought you were better than this! Lying to your best friend, not telling him you have a _boyfriend_ -“

“ _Phichit_!” Yuuri pushes him away, heart pounding as he glances to make sure the screen is locked and the message unseen. “I only met him a few times, there’s _nothing_ going on!”

“Are you sure? Because he’s been posting so many vague love-related things the past months, almost like he’s _pining_ after a certain someone.” Phichit grins at him, sitting up again so he can poke Yuuri’s stomach. “And what about that interview, huh? You never did tell me what exactly happened-“

“Because nothing happened!” Yuuri protests, but he knows his face is burning up.

It took a while, but little bits and pieces of that banquet night returned to him, enough to give him a hint of whose room he woke up in at least. Yurio refused to talk about it, being even more passive-aggressive than usual and claiming Yuuri owed him for making his life so hard, whatever that meant. He did let Yurio keep him company the past month while he prepared for the tests though, which turned out to be a good idea because nothing the judges might say to him could be worse than what Yurio would spew out on an hourly basis.

(“What, is that the best you can do? Pathetic. Viktor would cry if he saw you!”)

Yuuri is very happy that Yurio is too young to compete for another few years.

“Yuuri.” Phichit looks serious now, much more than he usually does. “He said the only thing he lacks in life is katsudon. Do you _really_ think he was talking about the food?”

Hiding his face in his hands, Yuuri tries not to think about it. It’s bad enough that he doesn’t remember what happened, how is he supposed to deal with someone like Viktor possibly being interested in him? Maybe they _were_ flirting a little, but hardly enough to warrant this kind of attention.

He just doesn’t understand.

“I think this conversation is over,” he says, hoping that Phichit will take the hint and drop the subject.

Ever since that time Viktor came by his room unexpected, Phichit has been trying to not-so-subtly make Yuuri go for it. But what is he supposed to do? All he _can_ do is work his hardest for the competition, and hope he won’t screw it up this time.

If he wins, he might consider doing something about Viktor, but until then he would really rather not think about it while awake.

Luckily Phichit seems distracted by his screen, most likely scrolling through social media like the gossiper he is. Yuuri doesn’t mind, he’s used to Phichit’s sudden silences. What he doesn’t like is the devious smile spreading across his face, a strong clue that he is about to mess with Yuuri’s life.

“I have to go,” Phichit says, still smiling, causing chills to run down Yuuri’s spine. “You’ll be here for the rest of the day, right?”

Yuuri would like to say no, but Phichit knows him too well. He’s going to stay holed up in this room studying until late at night, when he’ll go battle his competition nerves by either going through old simulations or working up a sweat on one of the obstacle courses.

“Where are you going?” he asks instead, folding his legs and hugging them as he watches Phichit run around the room for an impromptu cleaning session. “And why are you actually cleaning up your mess for once?”

“Just thank me later,” Phichit chirps, shoving a couple of things into his closet.

“For what?”

No reply, and Yuuri heaves a sigh as Phichit waves goodbye before rushing out the door. Once he’s out, Yuuri collapses back on his bed, rubbing at his eyes with a small groan. He’s been trying so hard not to think about Viktor, but knowing he’s here is… He knows it’s stupid, but he can’t help the way his heart pounds at the thought. If he doesn’t win he’ll never see him again, of that he’s sure.

While only the winner earns the title of captain, the other five will get various great opportunities as well, but to Yuuri nothing else is good enough. This is his dream, his goal in life.

His last chance to prove himself good enough.

He loses himself to thoughts of the future, and even though nothing can go worse than last year (or maybe it can, but he _really_ doesn’t need to think thoughts like that) he knows that coming in second will feel just as much as failure. It would mean becoming an assistant captain on someone else’s ship, and assisting just doesn’t cut it.

Yuuri is greedy, wanting more than he deserves, and maybe it makes him a bad person _but he can’t help it_.

If he can reach the stars, the ceiling lights just aren’t enough.

With his thoughts balancing on the sharp edge between determination and despair, Yuuri doesn’t hear the knock the first time. It can’t be Phichit, and Yurio would definitely have started yelling by the time he drags himself out of bed to unlock the door.

It’s Viktor.

“Hi~” he says with a wave.

Yuuri slams the door shut by pressing the emergency button. A bad idea in hindsight, but at least it hides the absolute look of horror on his face from Viktor’s eyes.

He’s not _ready_.

“Yuuri?” Viktor calls from the other side, and Yuuri steels himself before opening the door again.

“Sorry,” he apologizes with a nervous laugh, stepping aside to let Viktor inside, screaming silently the whole time. “The door kind of does that sometimes.”

“Oh. Don’t worry about it!”

Viktor beams at him, looking even better than last time they met. Is that even possible? It really shouldn’t be.

“So,” Viktor starts, and Yuuri realizes he’s still standing by the door in shock.

“What are you doing here?” he blurts out, drying his sweaty palms on his pants.

Oh god, he’s in a pair of old sweats and a threadbare t-shirt, and he hasn’t showered since yesterday morning. Couple that with a bad night’s sleep, and Yuuri probably looks terrible. He hasn’t bothered to look in a mirror yet, so he doesn’t know exactly how bad it is, but-

“Ah, your roommate told me you needed some cheering up!”

Yuuri believes him. Phichit would absolutely send Viktor here, which explains the mystery cleaning he’d done. He’ll have to decide later if he should murder him for it or not.

“I’m fine.”

Viktor raises an eyebrow, taking a step closer. Yuuri takes one backwards, and they continue like that until Yuuri falls on the bed, scrambling for balance.

“I wasn’t planning on starting where we left off,” Viktor says, smiling that little heart smile Yuuri’s been missing like crazy. “But it certainly crossed my mind a few times.”

Unsure of what Viktor refers to (and hating himself for blacking out when he’s drunk, why is he like that) and mind racing, Yuuri figures the best course of action is to sit absolutely still and not say a single thing.

Viktor doesn’t seem to like that very much, however.

“Yuuri?” he asks, tilting his head even as he sits down on the bed. “I was joking. I just wanted to see you.”

He nods, still not trusting himself to speak. Viktor looks too good on his bed, like a forbidden daydream come true. He’s in casual clothes, dark pants and grey shirt, still smiling as if his words were one hundred percent true.

Oh, how he wishes them to be true!

“Unless you _want_ to kiss, because that would be-“

“ _No_!” Yuuri shouts, holding his arms out as if under attack.

Viktor doesn’t react like he thought he would. Rather than laugh, he looks hesitant, folding his hands in his lap.

“Okay.”

Well, if this isn’t the most awkward silence Yuuri has ever experienced…

“It’s just, I mean-“ he breathes in deeply, forcing himself to relax his limbs again. “I wasn’t expecting you to show up in my room like this.”

“Oh! Sorry, I should have texted you, I just thought it would be nice to surprise you…”

Yuuri’s heart is still pounding harshly against his ribs, and he’s unable to look away as Viktor stares at him. It feels like Viktor is waiting for him to say something, but Yuuri has absolutely no idea what. It’s difficult enough to wrap his mind around Viktor being here _at all,_ much less trying to figure out what’s going on.

“You never answered my text, by the way.”

Flinching with guilt, Yuuri manages to avert his eyes. He hadn’t known what to say, and eventually he’d fretted so long over it that it was just too late to reply at all.

“I didn’t know what to say,” he confesses quietly, fists clenching in the fabric of his pants. “I…”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Yuuri bends forward in a makeshift bow, hands put together in front of his face.

“I’m so sorry! I don’t remember what happened at the banquet, and Yurio wouldn’t tell me anything! I just didn’t know what to say!”

 First, Viktor is silent, his stare boring into the top of Yuuri’s head. Then he shifts on the bed, and Yuuri feels a tentative touch to his hand.

“You don’t remember?”

He shakes his head, biting his lip against a noise as Viktor’s fingertips slide down the back of his hand. Then Viktor grips it tight, pulling him forwards until he’s sprawled across his lap, Viktor’s other hand tilting his chin up. Their faces are so close that all Yuuri can see is Viktor’s eyes, blue and sharp as they search his.

“Yuuri, you’re going to make me cry…”

“Huh?”

“All this time I’ve been thinking of the way you kissed me, longing for the next time… and you don’t remember?”

If it was possible for humans to spontaneously combust, there would only be a pile of ashes where Yuuri currently sits. As it is, he has to settle for blushing furiously and breaking out in a sweat.

“I- I _kissed_ you?!” he squeaks out, managing to make Viktor look even more crushed.

“Yuuri, you don’t hate me, do you?” Viktor asks this like the answer is extremely important to him, like Yuuri isn’t one of many others who might potentially hate the famed Viktor Nikiforov.

He shakes his head again, not even daring to blink.

“What about liking me?”

“I-“ Yuuri chokes on words, trembling with the force of holding everything in.

Rather than a question of _like_ , Yuuri may have a rather unhealthy obsession. First with the idea of Viktor, the things he represented and the things he accomplished. Then with the man, as he showed himself to Yuuri those too short days they spent together.

More than anything, Yuuri has been dreaming of another day like that. One that will _count_.

“I see,” Viktor mumbles, gaze softening as if Yuuri’s silence is enough of an answer. “I think we should make a deal.”

Yuuri blinks rapidly in surprise, about to ask when Viktor presses a finger to his lips.

(If he also strokes them a little, Yuuri is too far gone to react.)

“That night you promised me you’d win yourself a gold star, and I really want to see it happening, Yuuri. That’s why, if you win, I’ll do anything you want.”

“Anything I…?”

It’s very distracting to speak when Viktor’s finger still touches his lips, rubbing against them with so little subtlety that even someone as inexperienced as Yuuri can’t misinterpret.

“I wouldn’t mind doing a lot of things with you anyway, Yuuri,” Viktor purrs, leaning in so close that Yuuri can feel his warm breath against his mouth. “But if you win, you can ask absolutely anything of me. Whatever you want.”

 Something about this seems vaguely familiar to Yuuri, like the traces of a half-forgotten dream, but reality will have to take precedence right now.

“Okay,” he breathes out, wide-eyed and light-headed.

He feels like he’s floating, like a dive gone wrong in zero gravity and now he’s no longer in control, no longer able to reach something solid to hold on to.

“So, you’ll win?”

Viktor’s voice is warm and deep, pulling him under, washing over him like the waves on the beach back home in Hasetsu where he would run around and play as a child, long before the thought of dedicating his life to space entered his mind.

“I’ll win,” he whispers, then swallows hard, digging his fingers into Viktor’s arms to ground himself. “I’ll definitely win!”

The answering smile Viktor gives him is wide and beautiful, lighting up his whole face.

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” he says, then cups Yuuri’s cheeks with both hands. “I’ll cheer for you with everything I have.”

Before Yuuri realizes what’s happening, he’s been kissed by Viktor Nikiforov.

It’s a small kiss, but Viktor’s lips are soft and dry, brushing over his slow enough that he can feel the tingle of it for minutes afterwards.

It was a _kiss_ , and-

If Yuuri wins, he can ask for another.

Maybe more than one, even.

(Maybe he’ll ask for as many kisses as there are stars in the universe.)

 

☆☆☆

 

Viktor spins slowly in Yakov’s chair, staring unseeingly at the shifting landscapes projected on the walls. It’s one of those chairs that float, adjustable to the smallest detail, with built-in massage and heating pads. He’s always thought that if he ever retired and got a desk job, he would definitely get a chair like that.

When Yakov enters he stops, staring at him expectantly.

“Why are you in my office, Vitya.”

Yakov sighs as he asks this, rubbing his forehead tiredly. It’s late, but not so late that Viktor deserves that question.

“The results, Yakov! I need to know immediately.”

He gets a look, one he knows precisely what it means. It means that Yakov remembers him being an annoying little kid, always running around the ship and causing trouble.

“Pretty please?”

“If you tell me why you’re _really_ here. As nice as it is that you’re taking an interest in the students, you never do things simply out of the good of your heart.”

“Yakov, you hurt me! I’ve been on my absolute best behavior the whole week!”

“Exactly,” Yakov grunts, shooing him off his chair. “There’s no reason for you to be so involved, _unless_.”

Viktor blinks innocently at him, hoping against hope that Yakov will simply tell him Yuuri’s final results so that he can prepare for the graduation ceremony the following day. To say he’s been sitting on pins and needles the past week is an understatement. Things would have been nicer if he could have at least seen Yuuri every day, but instead he’d been stuck with Yuri or Phichit whenever he was too impatient to visit classes. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t _Yuuri_.

“The results?” he tries again, walking around the desk to lean against the front, but Yakov seems onto him now, leaning back in the chair and narrowing his eyes at him.

“I spoke with Celestino a couple days ago. He mentioned something about you and a certain Yuuri becoming friendly after he saved your life.”

Of course, Yakov already knew about the whole incident with the pirates, but Viktor had sort of left out the details on what happened afterwards. He wanted to be present at the ceremony, and if Yakov thought he had impure intentions he might have banned him instead.

“Well, Yuuri is very nice, so it’s hard not to be friends with him.”

Viktor could hear the moment that Yakov’s patience snapped. Instead of yelling at him, however, Yakov leaned across his desk, arms crossed as he pinned Viktor down with one of his infamous glares.

“He broke your record, you know.”

“Yes, I heard about it.”

“Not the one last year.” Yakov taps his fingers against the polished surface of the desk, looking angry but still not yelling for some reason. “This year. For the total score. He scored _especially_ high on the interview he failed last year.”

Standing up straight, Viktor holds his breath as he waits for the confirmation that this means what he wants it to mean.

“When I asked him how he felt afterwards, he just mumbled something about how there are so many stars in the universe that no one has even bothered to count, and then he wandered off in a daze. What do you think of that?”

Mouth forming a small pout, Viktor sinks down in a crouch and rests his chin and forearms on the desk.

“I think he should have said something about me instead.”

“Oh, he did.”

Viktor perks up at this, but Yakov still looks like he bit into something sour, so he tries not to get his hopes up.

“Vitya.”

“Yes?”

 “You’re not going to do something stupid, are you?”

“Me? Yakov, you have so little faith in me.”

“More like I know you too well,” Yakov mutters, but Viktor can’t take it to heart.

He’s too busy planning his speech for when he gets to tell Yuuri he won. Standing up with a little bounce, he smiles at Yakov and makes for the door.

“One last thing,” Yakov calls after him, and he turns to walk backwards instead. “No kissing on stage.”

“Yakov!” Viktor puts his hand over his heart, scandalized. “That’s an _appalling_ idea.”

“Vitya! Don’t you dare-“

Viktor isn’t listening anymore. He has plans to make. People to call. Katsudon to eat.

(But he’ll save the katsudon for tomorrow night.)

 

☆☆☆

 

Yuuri lies with his face pushed into his pillow, not sure if he wants to sleep or just slowly suffocate so that he doesn’t have to face the morning. It’s almost time to get up and he hasn’t slept at all, feeling absolutely terrible. He’s exhausted, having fallen into bed right after the final interview last night, the one test he’d been dreading for a whole year – but he had made it through somehow.

Made it through, but he can’t help thinking it was- well, _too easy_. Every time he managed to answer something particularly obscure they would ask how he knew, and he would have to confess that actually, Viktor once mentioned this in an interview, or in a report on some insignificant planet that no one in their right mind would have listened to.

Yuuri, apparently, is never in his right mind when it comes to Viktor.

Trying to will himself to sleep, even if just for ten minutes, Yuuri’s mind wanders to the suit waiting for him in his closet. It’s the only thing that isn’t packed away in boxes besides what he’s wearing to bed. It’s hard to believe that he’s really graduating, that he made it. He hadn’t wanted to pack in advance, but Phichit had insisted on helping, crying out now and then and hugging him, claiming he would miss him so much that Yuuri better save a spot on his ship for Phichit when it was his turn to graduate in a couple years.

He’s pretty sure that Phichit can make captain, though.

Tilting his head for some much needed air, Yuuri glances at his wrist through the darkness. He’s got several messages from Viktor saved now, some to greet him good morning or say goodnight, some for luck, and some that fill his heart with trembling warmth.

[ _A very tiny student asked if I knew you today, and when I said yes, he made a really weird excited noise. I think he’s a fan of yours!_ ]

[ _I mean, with thighs like those, who wouldn’t be?_ ]

[ _I think I’ll join the fan club he’s started._ ]

He can allow himself to feel happy, right? He can allow himself to fantasize a bit, when he’s safe in bed and no one’s watching. Viktor came here for his sake, to see him win gold, and like every other time he remembers that, his heart starts beating faster.

His whole body aches with the desire to win, and yet…

_Will he kiss me again?_

The thought has occupied Yuuri’s mind the past week, the memory of Viktor’s lips like a fever dream. Even now he can’t help but lift his fingers to his lips, touching them in wonder.

As much as he wants to win, he’s almost afraid of what might happen.

Squirming on the bed he tries to find a more comfortable position, one that might let him sleep instead of think about the same things over and over again. Nothing seems to work, though, and he sighs as he stares up at the dark ceiling. He wants to see Viktor…

Just to make sure that he’s real. That Yuuri isn’t mistaken, or that he’ll walk up on that stage and Viktor will act as if they don’t know each other. The thought alone is enough to make his skin prickle with discomfort, like an itch that won’t go away no matter how much he scratches it.

He really, really wants to see Viktor.

Stepping out of bed as quietly as he can, Yuuri puts on his shoes and fumbles blindly for a thicker shirt in one of the boxes. The corridors are always cold at night, and Viktor’s room is a five minute walk away.

Long enough that Yuuri changes his mind several times, but short enough that he’s only half a mess when he reaches it. Heart racing, he somehow manages to knock, barely breathing as he waits. Maybe Viktor won’t wake up. Maybe he _will_ wake up and be annoyed that Yuuri woke him up. Maybe-

The door slides open, revealing Viktor fully dressed, the room bathed in light.

“Yuuri!” he says, eyes wide with surprise.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Yuuri forces out, because this was such a bad idea and he really should have known better, but Viktor’s face softens into a smile as he holds out a hand.

“I’m glad,” Viktor says, and Yuuri hesitantly reaches out for him as well. “I wanted to see you.”

“Oh.”

He doesn’t know what else to say, but Viktor gently pulls him into the room and closes the door behind them. It’s just a guest room, undecorated and plain, but with Viktor in it everything seems colorful anyway.

Even Yuuri feels less plain with Viktor’s eyes on him.

“Hmm, did you sleep at all?” Viktor asks, brushing a thumb underneath Yuuri’s left eye, where no doubt there is a dark circle.

“Not really…”

“Were you thinking about me?”

At some point Viktor had snuck an arm around Yuuri’s waist, smiling down at him with barely concealed excitement. He feels so warm now compared to the chill on his walk, heart fluttering in his chest as he tries to remember words.

“N-not really…”

“Oh, Yuuri,” Viktor breathes, pulling him closer until their chests touch, fingertips smooth against his chin as it’s tilted upwards. “You sure know how to break a man’s heart.”

“I wasn’t-!” Yuuri’s protest dies on his lips as their foreheads connect, Viktor’s fingers sliding through his hair to cup the back of his neck.

“Oh, but you did, Yuuri.” Despite what he says, Viktor is still smiling. “You didn’t even leave me a note, you just forgot the most romantic thing that ever happened to me.”

Yuuri opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. Of all the ridiculous things Viktor has said, this one has to take the top spot.

“Do you remember _anything_?” Viktor asks, tone playful even as he turns his head to brush lips along Yuuri’s cheek.

He shivers, closing his eyes for a moment. Viktor is so close – so _real_.

“I know I drank a lot… I think I saw Yurio but he won’t tell me anything. And-“ He pauses, regroups his thoughts. “And I’m pretty sure I slept in your room.”

Viktor leans back, beaming at him.

“Close enough!” he chirps, grabbing Yuuri’s free hand to put it on his waist, stretching out the hand he held since earlier in a sloppy waltz position. “First, you taught me how to dance.”

He takes a few steps, Yuuri stumbling at first, a surprised laugh escaping him.

“Then,” Viktor continues, swirling them around, “you got me all hot and bothered. And _then_ ,” he dips Yuuri awkwardly to the ground, grinning happily. “You stole my heart. So, what do you have to say to your defense, hmm?”

Yuuri smiles so hard his cheeks ache with it, red-faced and still not sure he understands, but Viktor pulls them upright again and holds him tight against his chest.

“They were such good kisses, too,” Viktor mumbles, and Yuuri’s breath catches in his throat.

“Did we…”

Another smile, but Viktor shakes his head.

“You sure left me hanging, Yuuri.”

“Umm,” is the only thing Yuuri can think to say, hiding his face against Viktor’s collarbones.

 He must be blushing so much that Viktor can feel it through his shirt, which Yuuri now notes is very soft and also happens to smell very much of Viktor.

“So,” Viktor hums into his ear, “you wanted to see me?”

Heat rushes through Yuuri’s body, his nerves all over the place. He’s sure that if he wants, he can say the words and Viktor will take him to bed, easy as breathing.

Yuuri finds it very difficult to breathe right now.

“I just wanted to make sure,” he mumbles, latching on to Viktor’s shirt by the small of his back.

“Make sure?”

“That you’re real.”

Startled silence, and then Viktor laughs heartily, fingers gently carding through his hair.

“And do I seem real, Yuuri?”

“Maybe. Yes. Probably…”

Viktor pushes some of his hair from the side of his face, trailing little kisses from his temple down to the soft skin underneath his ear.

“And now?” he whispers, like he couldn’t feel how Yuuri tensed and shuddered from his touch.

“Not fair,” he whispers back, heart hammering against his ribs.

“You know what’s not fair, Yuuri?” Viktor asks this like they’re holding a normal conversation, like Yuuri can still feel his legs. “Phichit told me you listen to my mission reports sometimes. I really thought those were just collected by the school for appearances!”

Yuuri’s soul has left his body. Viktor was _not_ supposed to know about that! It was bad enough he had to confess that to the examiners, bad enough that Phichit has caught him in the act several times.

“I really don’t think it’s fair that you know so much about me when I know so little about you. And you even had posters in your room!”

“Nooooo,” Yuuri groans, embarrassed to the point of tears. “I’m sorry, that’s so weird isn’t it.”

“Ah well,” Viktor sighs, “it’s not like you’ve listened to all of them.”

Yuuri’s embarrassed silence is telling enough.

“ _All_ of them?!

“…yes.”

“Even the ones where I was drunk?”

Yuuri nods.

“What about the one where I talk about the mating habits of poodles on planet as compared to in space?”

Another nod, with an added wince.

“Wow. What about the fake ones I sent in just to mess with Yakov? The ones about how I followed a ghost ship through a meteor shower and found a planet made of fudge?”

Yuuri can’t help it. His shoulders start shaking with poorly suppressed laughter, a snort bubbling up his throat when Viktor pokes at his cheek.

“My favorites,” he says, lifting his head to catch Viktor with a suspicious streak of red across his nose.

“You’ve been listening this whole time,” Viktor mumbles, face turned to the side. “I feel like I should have made a better impression.”

“You were really inspiring,” Yuuri disagrees, still giddy with laughter. “I preferred those over the more official ones.”

“’Inspiring’ he says.” Viktor huffs out a breath, leaning back to see Yuuri’s face better, tugging at the hairs on his neck. “You are certainly something else, Katsuki Yuuri.”

Yuuri waits for him to continue but Viktor only stares at him, searching his eyes with a thoughtful look. Then his gaze drops to Yuuri’s mouth, thumbs stroking along his jaw in slow caresses.

“Viktor?”

“I don’t think you understand, Yuuri.” Viktor lifts his eyes to meet Yuuri’s again, all but squishing his cheeks together. “I want to know everything about you, your likes and dislikes, your body… You’re captivating.”

It’s too much, being told all this when he’s lacking sleep, brain working overtime after such a stressful week. Yuuri lets his head fall against Viktor’s chest again, drawing in a shaky breath. He has no energy left, exhaustion catching up to him. Viktor seems to notice this, because he hums and pulls Yuuri closer, steadying him with his arms.

“Sleep first?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his tone that makes Yuuri make a muffled noise of complaint. “We still have a few hours before we need to be up and ready. You can tell me everything later, okay?”

Yuuri nods, body feeling sluggish and uncooperative as Viktor herds him towards the bed. Just the thought of going back to his room is tiring, and besides. If he fails his exams, he at least won the luxury of Viktor’s time and company, even if just for a while.

“Tell me, Yuuri,” Viktor mumbles once they’re comfortable, Yuuri tucked into his arms, using his chest as a makeshift pillow. “Did you decide on what to ask me yet?”

“I’m not sure…”

Viktor snickers at this, tightening his grip a little before nuzzling the top of his head.

“You can have all the kisses you want, so don’t waste it, alright?”

There’s really nothing Yuuri can say to that.

(Except maybe ‘yes’ and ‘please’, but he’s not there yet. Not entirely.

 _Soon_ , Yuuri promises himself.

When he wins, he’ll ask for everything.)

 

☆☆☆

 

There’s a shimmer of hushed anticipation in the air, students – and soon to be former students – filling the seats in the ceremonial hall of the Academy. Viktor is holding an envelope in his hand, and it trembles a little as they’re down to the last two competitors. Of course, he already knows what the spidery gold writing will say, but Yuuri does not, and right now he looks ready to bolt off the stage.

Viktor can’t wait to hold him again.

Before he unfolds the paper, he sweeps his eyes over the crowd, sees the homemade banner cheering for Yuuri that his official little fan club has made. Yuuri, he has noticed, refuses to even look in their direction.

“The winner,” he starts, “has managed to do some incredible things. He broke my record, for one, ending up with a total score of three hundred and thirty-nine points. Let’s start with applauding for that!”

The crowd cheers, stomping their feet and whistling, and a quick glance at Yuuri tells Viktor he’s almost green in the face.

Still very pretty.

Always, so very pretty.

“Something else he has done, is to prove his worth when he didn’t need to, saving a life at the risk of his dreams. Not everyone can do that. Not everyone has the guts and compassion needed.”

Tracing the lines of the folded paper, the only one left of several and containing the names of first and second place, Viktor tries to remember how he felt at his own graduation. He was fairly confident he would win, most likely looking similar to this year’s number two, a man named JJ who is one year Yuuri’s junior.

Was he happy? Excited? All he can remember is that it was expected, his win, his career, his everything.

Standing here, about to reveal the results, he feels excitement coursing through him at the thought of Yuuri’s happiness the way it never did for himself.

He wants to make him happy so much that he’s trembling, wants to spin Yuuri around in congratulations, wants to laugh and cry with him in celebration.

“I asked his teachers to describe him, and they all said the same things. He’s a good person. He works harder than anyone. And his friends would say, he gives and gives and never takes.”

Unfolding the paper he allows himself a smile, trying not to look at Yuuri but it’s so very difficult.

“Today, he will have to take. He will have to admit that he really is the best, that he deserves this, because he does. Katsuki Yuuri, Jean-Jacques Leroy, please take your places.”

They move to stand at the front of the stage, forced to face the crowd. It’s a strange old tradition, but as strange old traditions go, it simply is the way it’s done.

“Both of you have done well on all the tests. Both of you I am sure will leave this Academy and move on to perform great things in the future. We have already congratulated the other four on their prizes…”

Viktor trails off, waiting for the tension to peak. Yuuri looks tense, his dark blue jacket glittering in the spotlight even as he seems to shrink inside it.

“For second place, the person will take up the position of vice captain for one year, this time on a ship named _Vkusno_.”

He waits for the ball to drop, and when it does, Yuuri is the first to turn around and gape at him.

“There will be a vacant spot, since Christophe Giacometti, my current vice captain, will take over my job for the time being.”

Yuuri looks like he might faint, and Viktor wonders if he should move closer just in case. He sees Yurio and Phichit in the front seats though, the former halfway out of his seat, the latter busy recording everything, and figures they can reach Yuuri if he should fall towards the audience.

“That is to say, after a late change of plans, I will be doing the honors of taking a year off to advice the winner during his first year as captain!”

Stunned silence, and then-

“Vitya!”

Viktor grins, waving at Yakov with both paper and envelope.

“It’s the least I can do for someone who broke my record!” he chirps back, winking at Yuuri.

Which in hindsight, he wasn’t supposed to do, but oh well. The result is so worth it, because Yuuri’s eyes widen before he blushes bright red, turning back towards the audience to hide, then realizing that doesn’t help, and instead proceeding to hide behind his hands instead.

Viktor wants to push those hands away and cover his face in kisses instead.

“Vitya, please. The results.” Yakov sounds resigned, but Viktor takes it as receiving his blessing.

“Okay! If you haven’t guessed already, the winner, who broke my record and stole my heart, is none other than Katsuki Yuuri!”

To the sound of the cheering crowd, Viktor goes up to Yuuri and finally pries his hands off. He can hear people murmuring questions to each other, but Phichit is whistling loud enough to almost drown them out.

“Yuuri, congratulations!” he says, beaming down at his mortified expression.

“Viktor, just what-“

“You’re not happy?” Viktor cradles Yuuri’s hands in his, bringing him close. “I know I said you could ask me anything, but the truth is, you already asked me to do this when you were drunk…”

“I _did_?!”

“You weren’t going to ask me something else this time, were you?”

For a moment he feels the fear of rejection – not a pleasant experience – but then Yuuri vigorously shakes his head.

“I just didn’t think, I mean, I _actually_ won.”

“ _And_ broke my record!”

Yuuri blinks slowly at him, clearly dazed, and Viktor moves a hand to caress his cheek. When he smiles this time, Yuuri smiles back, and Viktor can see all the stars in the universe glimmering in his eyes.

“I’m very impressed,” he mumbles, trailing his fingertips down the side of Yuuri’s face, lifting his chin up so that their breaths mingle. “I’m so looking forward to seeing you in action…”

“Viktor…”

Yakov clears his throat, and when Viktor sends him an irritated look he realizes that everything they’ve said could be heard clearly throughout the hall. He sends him an innocent smile, as if to say, of course I wasn’t flirting on stage! This was a purely professional exchange of words!

Unsurprisingly, Yakov is not impressed, only points at his own golden star to remind Viktor that he has a job he volunteered to do.

“I almost forgot, your gold star!”

Rather than reach for the neatly placed box on a small side table, Viktor opens up the first few buttons on his jacket and unclasps his own star.

“It’s a little chipped, since it’s been through a lot, but I want you to have it,” he says, voice thick with emotion to an extent he didn’t expect. “Take good care of it, okay?”

Yuuri’s eyes are impossibly wide as Viktor takes a hold of his blue jacket, slipping the bottom half of the star’s clasp through a gap between buttons. When he fastens it, Yuuri grips his wrist hard, lips trembling as he tries to speak.

“Viktor, you can’t-“

“It’s yours,” he interrupts, staring down at it rather than meeting Yuuri’s eyes.

 _Like my heart_ , he doesn’t say, because it’s too early, too much–

He drags a thumb over the star as it rests above Yuuri’s heart, feels the little nicks in the gold, wondering if Yuuri will keep it like this or polish it to look brand new.

“Thank you,” Yuuri breathes, fingers intertwining with Viktor’s against his chest. “I’ll treasure it.”

Viktor looks up, then, meets Yuuri’s gaze as it softens with a beautiful smile.

“Please do,” he whispers in return, their joined hands falling between their bodies, the world fading into the distance. “Yuuri, I…”

Feeling his heartbeat pound against his ribcage, Viktor takes a deep breath and wonders, not for the first time, how it’s possible for Yuuri to make him feel so weak just by being near him. It’s a good kind of weak, the kind he wants to drown in over and over again until he resurfaces somewhere completely different.

Somewhere he can give Yuuri every part of himself.

“Viktor,” Yuuri says, expression serious as he tugs lightly at his hands. “I still want to ask you properly.”

At some point they ended up even closer to each other, and Viktor doesn’t think he’ll ever stand being separated again. He can feel Yuuri’s warmth seep into his own body, so alluring and filled with promises.

“Anything, Yuuri.”

And even though they are in a room full of people, and though there are still so many things he doesn’t know about Yuuri, he knows that when he tells him this, he truly does mean it.

“Then, Viktor, will you become my advisor, and guide me through the universe?”

 There’s a sweet ache within his chest, bubbling up his throat to bloom into a trembling smile mirrored by Yuuri’s mouth.

Once the ceremony is done, he will have Yuuri to himself, kiss him soft and slow until they forget how to breathe.

For now, he has to settle with brushing his knuckles gently over Yuuri’s cheek, losing himself in those countless stars in his eyes.

“There is nothing I would rather do,” he says.

 

~☆~Epilogue~☆~

 

In a not so distant future, Yuri Plisetsky is suffering.

“Yuuri, what do you think about this one? Could it be from the same meteor?”

“I think it might be a different one, you see the slight shift in pattern here? There might have been two striking at the same time.”

“Ah yes, you’re probably right, solnyshko. As expected of my beloved Yuuri!”

“Viktor! We’re still at work!”

“I know, but it’s so hot that you’re smarter than me…”

“Viktor…”

“Seriously?!” Yuri yells at them, throwing his hands out in disdain. “Why do I have to be on this ship anyway? You guys aren’t teaching me anything, you’re just being disgusting!”

“Yurio, please,” Viktor berates him, one hand on his side, the other playing with Yuuri’s hair. “We’re having a very interesting discussion about these findings. If you can’t follow because Yuuri is too smart for you-“

“Beka, please,” Yuri groans, sinking into his chair until his posture barely counts as sitting. “Make them stop.”

The holograph flickers to life next to him as the ship’s computer takes human shape. It’s been using the same design ever since Yuri casually mentioned it looked pretty good, and he can’t help but feel a little smug that it seems to like him more than the other Yuuri, who happens to be the actual captain of the ship.

“I would, but unfortunately, captains hold ultimate authority over the ship computer. It’s programmed.”

“Of course it is,” Yuri mutters, flipping his hood up over his head so he at least might not need to see the lovey-dovey couple. He shares a look with Makkachin, but the dog seems perfectly content with sleeping by Yuuri's feet. “Can I just leave?”

“Yurio~ There’s no point for you to intern under Yuuri if you don’t actually _learn_ anything.”

“Your point?”

Viktor’s hand has now ventured below Yuuri’s collar, and Yuri truly wonders how the actual crew stands it.

He’s been here two weeks and he’s ready to strangle someone.

“Viktor, stop it,” Yuuri says, slapping his hand away, but he certainly isn’t looking displeased.

“That’s it, I’ll come back when you two are less annoying.” Yuri jumps up, hurrying towards the examination room’s exit before they can stop him.

“And when is that?” Otabek asks, following along, slight curiosity present in his usually so flat voice.

“With those two?” Yuri chances a glance back at the stupid couple, cringing when they start play-fighting with the poor remains of that meteor. “I’d say never.”

“Don’t forget that we booked the gym tonight, Yurio!” Viktor calls after him, a pleasant smile on his face that does no justice to how ruthless he can be during exercises. 

With a half-hearted wave, Yuri leaves them to their own devices, knowing they will probably spend too much time flirting while getting a surprising amount of work done.

“Beka,” he complains, “why are they so dumb.”

Unfortunately, the computer does not have an answer, and just like that Yuri is forced to suffer through the remaining months of internship the same way it started out – third-wheeling the sappiest couple in the known universe.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think I will ever get over how happy these two make me. Poor Yurio though, haha! 
> 
> Thank you for reading, please let me know if you enjoyed it!! <3
> 
> (Solnyshko means sun in Russian. Also, Viktor would definitely name his spaceship something silly haha... I wonder what Yuuri would name his.)


End file.
